


Regardless of Warnings

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, F/M, Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Interactive Fiction, Obsession, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 63,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: Much to his surprise, Emet-Selch survived the final confrontation with the (female) Warrior of Light. Now the real game begins.If you like this fic check me out on twitter: @amandaterasuThis fic uses the Chrome extension InteractiveFics. You'll want to set the substitutes as follows:(Y/N) - Your WOL's Given Name(L/N) - Your WOL's Family Name(R/N) - Your WOL's race (Don't forget to capitalize the first letter!)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I know this should be obvious but I'm saying it anyway: _The Relationship Presented In This Fic is **EXTREMELY UNHEALTHY**!_ If you find yourself in a relationship like this IRL, GET OUT.
> 
> Do not do any of the BS you see anyone in this fic doing. It's all bad.

Hades, Emet-Selch, Architect, Ascian, Paragon of the Source, Bringer of Chaos and Summoner of Zodiark, groaned in pain. Which was delightful in itself - he hadn’t expected to feel much of _anything_ after that damnable woman slew him in his memories of Amaurot’s fall. He had thought, when his aether dispersed, that was the _end_. The end of everything, as far as he was concerned.

He cracked one eye open to take stock of his surroundings. A small, stone-walled chamber. Stained-glass windows that prevented him from seeing whatever lie beyond. A vanity, an armoire. A desk, with pen and ink and paper and pounce pot. And he was in a large canopied bed, carved with twining vines and simple flowers. 

The Ascian forced himself to sit, despite the pain, and looked into the vanity mirror. He still bore the visage of Solus zos Galvus, and he drew some solace from that. By this point the form was as familiar and comforting as the sight of his Ascian’s mark floating before his face. He attempted to summon it, but it would not come, and he frowned, giving it a few more attempts before giving up. He was nothing if not practical, and it behooved him to first learn what situation Hydaelyn and her chosen had landed him in - for no one else could have interceded to stop his demise, save her.

“And I was so looking forward to some _rest_,” he grumbled, climbing out of the bed. It was obnoxiously large in this rather sparse room, and he found it nearly comical. But no time for a laugh, especially when he had no audience to play for.

Hades approached the vanity, and looked himself over more closely. He ran his thumb over his dark auburn stubble - decided he needed a shave - and ran a hand through his limp hair - and resolved to add a bath to that. He began rummaging through the vanity, looking for a razor, and was irritated to find it empty. All the drawers, in every stick of furniture in this room, were empty.

Frustrated, he grabbed the handle of one of the drawers and threw it at the nearest stained glass window. It bounced harmlessly, not off the window, but off aetherial wards, and the shimmer of distributed force rippled through the room, showing him that the entire bloody thing was warded. Floor, ceiling, windows, walls, furniture - all of it was there for his use, but unable to be destroyed.

“Oh,” he said, distantly. “I am _imprisoned_.” He wasn’t really surprised. Given what he was, all the things he had done, imprisonment was really the least terrible option. Hades had expected to be ended - but he yet lived, and he was not being tortured, or humiliated, or any other gruesome options that sprang to his mind. He was merely being held.

He had resolved to begin testing the limits of the warding when he heard a key turn in the lock, and the door swing open.

“Aah, You’re awake,” A masculine voice said, and Hades turned to see a tall Elezen man standing in the doorway. He glanced past him, to see a hallway with warm lighting and fresh flowers in a vase on some type of table, the rest obscured by his visitor, who continued speaking. “I am Olivier, tasked with seeing to your comfort during your stay with us. Is there anything I can get you?”

“I want to know the terms of my confinement,” he said, frowning.

“I’m afraid you will have to discuss that with the Mistress,” Olivier replied, politely.

“Who is the Mistress?” Hades asked.

Olivier bowed. “It is my pleasure to serve the Warrior of Light, (Y/N) (L/N).”

“What does she plan to do with me?”

“At the moment, she has no plans. She is currently ensconced with some of her compatriots, most notably Lady Krile Mayer Baldesion, in Mor Dhona, discussing the issue.” Hades decided this servant was unusually forthcoming, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

“Are we in Mor Dhona?”

“No. You are in the Mistress’s private home, within the Goblet, outside Ul’dah.”

“Why am I imprisoned here, but the meeting regarding my future is elsewhere?” 

When Olivier’s reply was not immediate, Hades set his jaw. There was more afoot than he yet realized.

“Very well. I can see I’ll only receive superficial answers from you,” He said. The Garlean Emperor was an easy personality to slip into - an easy person to be. “I’ll have a bath, a shave, tea, and whatever meal is most appropriate for the hour. As I fear I may be in your company for some time, I would like some literature to occupy my time. I want to be informed immediately when your mistress returns, and tell her I will receive her an hour afterward.”

“Of course,” Olivier bowed, and turned to go.

“Oh, and a piano.”

“A piano?” the manservant asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Music soothes me,” Hades said, and attempted to smile innocently. Whether it worked or not, he could not tell, as Olivier’s face did not change.

“As you like,” He closed the door, and Hades heard a definitive _click_ as it locked behind him.

“Well,” he said to himself. “Now we wait.”

* * *

Emet-Selch was served two meals - a moderate breakfast and a light lunch - before he was informed that the “Mistress” had returned, just as the light from his impenetrable windows was shifting towards orange.

_West-facing windows, then,_ he thought. _Most likely sunset._ Then he returned to playing the upright piano that Olivier and two unnamed men had wedged against one wall for him while he ate his lunch.

He occupied himself performing whatever came to mind, it didn’t really matter. The goal here was to make her wait, and to do something that wasn’t pressing, so that (Y/N) would know how little he thought of her. So far down his list of priorities that piano practice ranked above. The first step would be to gain the upper hand with her. 

Amusement, however, soon passed into irritation, as the hour since her arrival came and went, then another, then another. He continued playing, petulantly. He would not let her know he was incensed.

Just as it was passing the fourth hour, long after the light from his windows had faded to black, the door opened, and the same two unnamed servants entered, carrying a table and chairs. While Olivier stood in the doorway, they set a table for two, with all the proper place settings and silverware for a formal meal.

Hades gave Olivier a sly grin. “At least you’re giving me dinner first. But I fear I have _nothing_ to wear.”

Olivier didn’t even blink. “It is the Mistress who shall be joining you. And as she selected all of your clothing, I doubt she will be displeased with your attire.”

As the servant shut the door, Hades, Emet-Selch, Architect, Ascian, Paragon of the Source, Bringer of Chaos and Summoner of Zodiark, shivered in delight at the idea of the (R/N) selecting what he would wear in his subjugation, and he wasn’t sure why.


	2. Dinner and Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) joins Emet-Selch for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it! Please leave a comment if you did, I find them very encouraging!
> 
> Edit: Discovered that I should not post chapters with interactive fics on. Didn't realize it had subbed out the codes in the actual chapter until I went to check it on my phone which does not have InteractiveFics

The click in the lock was the only warning Hades received before (Y/N) swept into the room, her face unreadable, the household servants trailing in her wake. She stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes fixed on some point over his shoulder, and she seemed to change from bone to basalt, skin to stone.

After five full minutes had passed without a flicker of movement, Emet-Selch sighed in irritation. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“You said you wished to speak with me,” she replied, then stilled again.

“Will you at least sit down, then, since you insisted on this theater of dinner and…” he waved a hand at her clothes, a fine dinner gown that would not have looked out of place on any lady of the Imperial Court. 

That, at least, got a slight twitch of her lips - a momentary smile, gone as soon as seen. “I would not presume to shame you so terribly as to imply you had less manners than a stableboy.”

It took him a moment to catch (Y/N)’s meaning, then his eyes went wide. _A lady does not sit until her chair is pulled out and offered by her host or gentleman companion,_ he remembered, some ancient part of Solus’s, the _real_ Solus’s, childhood etiquette lessons coming back to him. _Well,_ he thought, surveying the options before him, _if this is her game, then we’ll see how it plays out._

He strode over to the table, and pulled out the chair closest to her, and bowed. “My Lady, please,” he purred, letting his lock of white hair fall over his eye roguishly. That had always sent the ladies of the court into a titter.

“You’re too kind,” she replied, taking the seat in a swish of silk and impeccable grace. He pushed it in, just slightly, and was surprised at how light she was, the mere weight of a mortal (R/N). In truth, he had expected her to weigh as much as the stone into which she seemed to transmute. It would have brought him comfort, at least - some sign he had not been bested by a mere mortal, but something _greater_. 

As Hades settled into his own seat, the servants placed covered dishes before them, and poured a touch of wine into (Y/N)’s glass. She lifted the glass delicately, and swirled it a few times, before lifting it to her nose. The pink of spring blooms crept across her cheeks, then she took a sip. When she pulled the glass away, he could see the wine on her lips, the near-purple accentuating every crease and crevice, until her tongue - a delicate red rose petal - swept across them, and retreated into her mouth.

When she said, “It’s excellent, thank you,” to the servant, Hades realized he’d been holding his breath. He resumed with a silent inhale while the nameless man filled both their glasses, then a crystal decanter, and set it on the table beside them. Olivier approached, and lifted the covers from the first course. He only wished he were surprised to see the delicate hors d’oeuvres, but at this point, Hades knew she was going to make him suffer the entire seventeen courses. He lifted the date - stuffed with sharp cheese, and wrapped in bacon - by the tiny silver sliver it had been speared with, and ate it while the servants retreated out of the room - save Olivier, who took a place by the now-closed door.

“As you know,” she began, “I am (Y/N) (L/N), the Warrior of Light when on the Source, and Warrior of Darkness on the First. I know you have many names, so, what would you prefer I call you?” She carefully removed her evening gloves, and he stared in silence at every ilm of revealed skin. Hades didn’t permit himself to speak, not until both gloves were resting in her lap, under her napkin. 

“That depends,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear that slight tremble in his voice, “on what you’ve told _them_.” He gestured toward Olivier with the naked sliver, but indicated the servants as a group.

“As far as most of my servants know, you are a political prisoner, and for their safety and yours, they are not to learn anything about you, just perform whatever tasks Olivier or I request of them. Olivier knows the whole of it, as he is my loyal retainer, and has been by my side longer than most anyone else on the Source.” She nodded to the Elezen, who bowed, silently, from his shadowy corner.

“Is he your lover?” Emet-Selch asked, then cursed inwardly. Where had that question come from?

(Y/N)’s laugh was a chime, brushing away the impropriety of the question. “Does it matter?” She took another sip of wine - _soft lips, petal tongue_ \- and shook her head. “It’s not as though you actually care. But to answer your question, only Olivier and the members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn know who you truly are.” 

She lifted her own date to her mouth, and as she withdrew the tiny stick of silver, their eyes met, and she swallowed. Her fingers flexed and he watched as she pressed the tip of the sliver into her skin, just hard enough to draw a single drop of blood. (Y/N) smiled, and her tongue curled past her sharp, pearlescent canine, to sweep away the ruby drop, before it retreated behind her mask of glossy perfection. Hades was no fool - that had been indecent, inflaming, and _absolutely_ intentional.

“Hades,” he said, taking up his own glass of wine, draining it. “Few know that name, and fewer still know what it means. If you intend to keep my secret, my true name would be your best option.” He set the glass back on the table, his brain desperately trying to understand (Y/N)’s game. 

“Very well, Hades,” (Y/N) replied, taking another sip of her wine. Olivier approached, and silently cleared the hors d'oeuvres, replacing them with a consommé, then refilled his glass before returning to the shadows. She gave the man an appreciative nod, and Hades let his eyes sweep over the curve of her jaw before she turned back to him. “I assume you have questions?”

“Several,” Hades replied, and took up his wine glass again, taking a more measured sip. “But you still haven’t answered the one I’ve already asked, (Y/N).”

“I told you who knew your truth,” she said.

“You didn’t tell me if Olivier over there is your lover.” 

He was betraying so much, and he knew it. (Y/N)’s slow smile said she knew it, too. “He isn’t. Sadly, my charms have never had an effect on him. Yours might,” she clarified, with a smile. “If you’d prefer _he_ take my place at this table, that can be arranged.”

Olivier coughed softly.

“No,” Hades said, running a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t share our… _history_.”

“Just so,” (Y/N) tilted her head to the side, and a lock of hair slipped past her shoulder to fall behind her back. He had never realized how _exposing_ formal gowns could be. “So, do you have other questions?” she continued, “Or are you going to sit through this whole meal and just give me brooding, hungry looks?” The (R/N) woman lifted a spoonful of the consommé that Hades had completely forgotten to her mouth.

“Why did you spare me?” Her answer to that question would guide the conversation, hopefully. Give him something to focus on other than the way the spoon slipped past her lips, the curve of it pressing her mouth into the same shape it would take, wrapped around his -

“I have a use for you,” (Y/N) answered enigmatically, and though it did not give him the direction Hades was hoping for, it at least spared him the end of that disastrous train of thought.

“And what use is that?” His tone was more acerbic than he intended.

“Please me, and I will tell you,” she cooed sweetly. 

Hades leaned back in his chair and huffed, the breath of it stirring the hair that hung over his face. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go, (Y/N). You’re supposed to be terrified of me.”

“Why?” Her eyes pinned him in place, and he looked away. “I defeated you at the height of your power. Now that Hydaelyn has granted my wish, and sundered you -”

“What?” His hand clenched the edge of the table. “Hydaelyn did _what_?”

“Sundered you,” (Y/N) said, taking another sip of her wine, as unbothered as discussing the weather. “You are now nine fourteenths of an Amaurotine soul, the same as I. Your remaining pieces have been scattered to those other Reflections. Do you think me so stupid as to allow a complete Paragon of the Source to live in my _home_?”

She waved a hand, and Olivier approached, replacing their consommé with a pair of devilled eggs. Hades said nothing, staring at the dish as if it had offended him and recalculating his position. Without his full power, he did not stand a chance of controlling (Y/N) by traditional means of violence and subjugation - nor of escaping her grasp with his skin intact. He would need outside help. But what form should that help take? That would depend on what use she had for him. Whatever it was, it didn’t require him in his ascendance, which meant she certainly didn’t plan to take on Elidibus or the remaining Ascians. But what if she did? She _had_ defeated him at the height of his power, and with his knowledge, he could provide valuable insight into his compatriots. His knowledge did not require his strength of arms or magic. How did she intend to get it? Was she going to try to break him? No, he would break her first.

(Y/N)’s hand came to rest over his own, where he was still gripping the beveled edge of the table with white knuckles. “No one here will hurt you, Hades,” she said, softly. “Why do you think I was gone all day?” Olivier coughed again, and she shot him a dirty look. “He deserves to know,” she told her retainer. 

“To know _what_?” He asked, turning his hand to grip hers. Hades wanted to scream, to terrify her, to beat her to death with one of these hand-carved chairs, or tear the dress from her and have her right there on the floor.

“Most of my compatriots want to kill you and be done with it,” (Y/N) replied. “They are not normally so bloodthirsty, but many of them feel you are simply too dangerous to be kept alive, and are quite cross with me for interceding on your behalf to Hydaelyn.” She squeezed his hand softly. 

“So, will they?”

“Will they what?” She asked. This close, he could see the way her skin moved over clavicle with each breath.

“You said they want to kill me, present tense. They actively, currently, want to kill me. Will they?” Hades queried, looking up into her eyes.

“_No_,” (Y/N)’s voice was firm, the same angry sword being drawn from a sheath he had heard when she defied him at the end. “I will not allow it. I told them as much. And if they make the attempt, they will answer to me.”

Hades laughed, near hysterical. “So you are both my guard and gaoler.”

“For now,” she said, and her eyes held some hidden mischief. (Y/N) reached over, and plucked one of the devilled eggs from the tray, offering it to him. He leaned forward, his eyes on hers, and took the egg in his mouth in a single bite, his lips locking around her fingers as well. The blush of pink returned to her cheeks, but her expression did not change. 

This, at least, was an easier game, with less harrowing consequences. 

“Would you like to dance, Lady (L/N)?” Hades asked abruptly. 

It was traditional to take a break after the egg course, before moving on to the pasta, but that was a distant concern. He was more interested in finding an acceptable excuse to put his hands on (Y/N)’s body. He was going to have her tonight, one way or another. In the short term, he needed to secure her desire to protect him from the other Scions that remained on the Source. In the long term, the Warrior of Light could be an extremely useful tool. She had already demonstrated the ability to handle herself on the Reflections, survive planned movements through the Rift, and perform a Rejoining without a Calamity. Ergo, if Hades was going to return to his ascendance, return to being Emet-Selch, he needed her cooperation.

He knew he was lying to himself when he told himself he didn’t desire her for _her_. He’d always had a weakness for women who could best him, and she most thoroughly had on the First.

“Olivier,” (Y/N) said, her tone still hard, commanding. “Leave us.”

* * *

The (R/N) felt good in his arms, and he had no need to compensate for any lack of skill on her part, which was a blessed relief. Most of the women he’d danced with as Solus were social climbers, their skill at the more artistic aspects of nobility shunned in favor of spending time forming advantageous connections. Whomever (Y/N) had been before becoming the “Warrior of Light”, she had been born to _this_. Another puzzle for him to solve.

She had said nothing since banishing her manservant, and he was still trying to decide the best way to seduce her. Her behavior had been a demonstration of contradictions - a master seductress who still blushed at his touch. It made it difficult to gauge what she would respond to. If he responded to the seductress, and she was innocent? He’d scare her off. If he responded to the blushes, and she was a seductress? He’d look weak, timid, even.

For now, Hades continued to dance, letting the Orchestrion play without interruption - twirling her about the small room while his mind catalogued her every reaction. He needed more information, and he was quickly running out of ways to get it outside of asking directly. 

“What was Garlemald like, when you were Emperor?” (Y/N) asked, jolting him from his train of thought.

“Like any other Empire - drunk on dreams of glory and conquest and military honor,” Hades said, off-handedly. He pulled her a little closer, closing the polite gap he had left between them. The crush of silk almost masked the tiny gasp she gave. _Almost_. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Unless there was something more… specific, you wanted to know about?”

Though he could not see her face, he could see her shoulders and a wide expanse of her back, and Hades bit his lip at the sight of gooseflesh spreading along her skin. (Y/N) was exquisitely responsive, and he intended to find out every sound she would make.

They took a few more turns in companionable silence, until she asked, her own voice thin and reedy with desire in his ear, “Is there anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable?”

Hades yearned to tell (Y/N) exactly what she could do, on her knees or on her back, but he wasn’t ready to end the game so quickly. If he made her feel cheap or easy, she would trust him less. He mentally cursed himself, realizing that if he had her tonight, it could do more to harm his plan than hinder it. Well, if he had to be tortured, better that it be with thoughts of a beautiful woman than thumbscrews.

“Do you have a library, Lady (L/N)?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said, and separated from him for a moment as the steps of the dance called for. (Y/N)’s eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks near-bruised from the strength of her blushing. “Didn’t Olivier bring you books, as you asked?”

Hades laughed and placed both hands on her waist, lifting her up and turning before setting her down again. “He did, but I fear your manservant doesn’t like me. He brought technical manuals for antique ceruleum engines. Olivier has a sense of humor, it seems.”

She chuckled, softly, and he pulled her back against him, letting his hand wander up, rather than down, and bent his arm to let his hand rest between her shoulder blades. (Y/N)’s reaction was immediate, every muscle in her back tensing beneath his hand, and her breath starting to come in shallow gasps.

“Anyway…” Hades demurred, continuing the dance as if she hadn’t almost frozen in his arms, “I was hoping I might prevail upon you to allow me access to your library as well? The ability to have a little change of scenery would make this a little less maddening, all things considered.”

“O-Of course,” (Y/N) replied, and he squeezed her tightly for a moment, a little reward for giving him what he wanted. “I’ll have it open for you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Hades let his lips brush the shell of her ear as he spoke, and she froze again, and wrenched herself from his grasp.

“I-I-I need to go…” she stammered, and fled the room. 

“(Y/N)!” he called after her, but made no move to stop her. 

Olivier appeared in the doorway, and glowered at him, before pulling the door shut and locking it. Hades paid him no mind, just meandered over to the table and took up her glass of wine, taking a moment to enjoy it, along with the flavor of her lips on the rim.

Hades sensed something, and turned to find Elidibus leaning against the Orchestrion. His current? Previous? Erstwhile - yes, he’d go with erstwhile - associate leaned over and turned it off, letting the music die.

“Can you _not_ think with your cock, for once in your Zodiark-forsaken life?”

“What’s wrong?” Emet-Selch asked, giving Elidibus a playful pout. “Jealous?”

“Hardly,” the other Ascian scoffed. “I brought you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Your reflection from the Void,” Elidibus replied, and pulled a sickly gasping infant from the rift between worlds.

“Oh thank Zodiark,” Hades replied, reaching for it. The Shadow Energy of Ascians unmade the child, and after a moment, he felt a little less like a mortal, and more like himself. “That would have been the hardest one to get. What do I owe you?”

Elidibus waved a hand dismissively. “I must restore the balance,” he said, “to prevent further destruction. You are key to restoring Zodiark, so I must aid you. The best thing you can do for now is keep the Warrior of Light and her Scions distracted.”

“Mixing business and pleasure,” Hades laughed. “Elidibus, did I miscount the days, is it the Starlight Celebration? I didn’t get you a gift.”

The Emissary groaned. “I’ve got work to do. See to it.” He vanished into shadow, without another word.

“Spoilsport,” Hades grumbled, then stretched out on the bed, letting himself drift to sleep with thoughts of the Warrior of Light and all the ways to find himself between her thighs - as well as all the advantage he could find there - dancing through his head.

* * *

Across the manor, in the library, Olivier turned from the devices used to measure aetheric flow, and gave (Y/N) a nod.

“Elidibus is gone?” She asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” the retainer replied, standing up straight. “And he did as you suspected - restored a portion of his soul to him.” Olivier pointed to some readings on the monitor.

“Good,” she relaxed visibly, leaning against one of the shelves.

“Are you really going to let him come in here?” Olivier asked.

“Yes,” (Y/N) replied, taking a seat at the desk and picking up a quill. “Are you still on board with the plan?”

“I serve _you_, madame, not Krile.”

“All right,” she scribbled out a quick note, tossed a bit of pounce over it to dry the ink, then shook off the excess before adding it to the stack of little notes on torn paper. “When I’m finished with these, do you mind hiding them about? I’m exhausted.”

“(Y/N)...” Olivier asked, locking up the monitoring devices and preparing to move them to a new location. “Are you going to sleep with him?”

“Better than that,” she said, not looking up from her writing. “I’m going to steal his heart.”

“If he doesn’t steal yours first…” Olivier mumbled under his breath, and pushed the aetheric monitors out of the library.


	3. Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades heads to the Library, then joins (Y/N) for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a longer chapter, but I decided that we'll finish the dinner in the next chapter as we reached a good stopping point.

When Hades awoke again, the table and chairs were gone, but a few new things had arrived. For one, a washbasin and shaving kit had been left on the vanity, and in the armoire he found a few changes of clothes, similar to what he’d worn during their game on the First, but all evidence of Garlemald stripped from them. He wasn’t very surprised, given what she’d said about her servants. 

He washed his face and shaved, smirking at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t have made last night go any better if he’d planned it. Not only was Elidibus off doing the hard work of retrieving his shards, but (Y/N) had turned from demanding mistress to pliant maiden in his arms the second they were alone.

_She wants me,_ Hades mused, _but she doesn’t want anyone to know._ He remembered Olivier had been behind her, unable to see her stunt with the hors d'oeuvre stick. _I shall have to give her every opportunity to meet with me clandestinely._

The lock finally clicked while he was tugging on his gloves, and he fastened the small pearl buttons as the manservant entered. “The Mistress has decreed that you are to have use of her library, and limited freedom of the grounds. She would also like to know if you would like to join her for supper this evening, in the dining room.” Olivier seemed uncomfortable with the invitation, issuing it only because it was his duty.

_”Please me,”_ Hades remembered (Y/N) saying.

“Please inform Lady (L/N) that I would be delighted to join her for supper,” he said, turning to Olivier. “And express my gratitude for her understanding in this trying time. Might I go see the library?”

With a pained sigh, the Elezen stepped out of the doorway, and bowed.

* * *

The entire walk to the library, Hades was observing and cataloguing everything. (Y/N)’s decor seemed to be a fusion of Doman and Ishgardian styles, but he could see betraying signs of Eorzean influence - the curling vines of Gridania, the reinforced windows of Limsa Lominsa, and the obnoxious displays of wealth of Ul’dah - which brought another question: where was all this money coming from? Adventurers weren’t known for having the kind of gil it would take to support a lifestyle like this. He filed that question along with others he was forming, to ask her about at dinner that night. Maybe by skirting around the edges of her, he could find her goals, and they could bargain properly.

“The Library,” Olivier said, and opened a door on the left. 

The first thing Hades noticed was that there were too many books for such a small space. Every available inch of wall was stuffed with bookshelves, save the fireplace, and every available surface was stacked with books, save a small area on the desk, and the cushioned armchair beside it. He raised an eyebrow to Olivier, who shrugged. “Your room was her study, until recently. Her personal collection had to go somewhere.” He looked about the room, then let his gaze settle on Hades in disapproval. “Bell’s on the desk should you need anything.” 

As Olivier shut the door behind him, Hades had to admit a level of surprise. He had not expected to be left _alone_ in the library. He immediately began sorting through the books stacked on various surfaces. Given they did not have homes on the shelves, they were most likely those brought from the study - (Y/N)’s _personal collection_. Perhaps they held a clue to what her goals were.

An hour later he growled in frustration. These books were all about subjects he already knew she was good at: combat, etiquette, dance - he’d even found one on maquillage, for Zodiark’s sake - but nothing that would give him a clue to what she had planned, what she _wanted_. He left the books he’d rejected scattered around the floor, and went to lever himself up to standing but stopped as he spied a tiny slip of paper sticking out of a book near the bottom of another stack.

“Curious,” he whispered. None of (Y/N)’s other books had shown much sign they’d even been read. Hades pushed the rest of the books to the floor, and lifted his prize to the light. It was an academic treatise on the principles of statecraft that he had commissioned a lifetime ago, when he was new to his Imperial throne. It had seemed like a prudent move - establish himself as an authority on the game, then publish a guidebook, which would then be widely read, and thus define the rules by which others played, making them more predictable. Even if they chose not to play by the rules therein, they would expect that he _would_ as the author, and thus they were still working off a limited set of assumptions. 

Hades wondered idly which camp (Y/N) fell into as he opened the book to the marked page. The tiny scrap of paper fluttered down into his hand, and he set it aside to see that she had been reading the section on the use of pawns to handle the less savory aspects of political machinations.

>   
Adventurers, of course, make the best pawns. Convince them of your good intentions, and they will commit all manner of crimes under the assurance that it will all work out. As they are generally considered to act outside of true political loyalties, rarely having strong ties to one nation or another during peacetime, you can have them act against your opponents, both foreign and domestic, without fear of reprisal. They can be used to secure power, resources, and information without asking for more than the assurance that they are doing the right thing.
> 
> The only downside, of course, is that you cannot let the mask slip around them, _ever_. As has been stated - they must be sure that you and they are both working towards the greater good. If they begin to suspect, even momentarily, that you are causing them to act in ways that may harm others, they will not respond well, and may even be conscripted by the very opponents you would turn them towards.  


Chewing his lip, Hades leaned against the desk and looked into the fireplace, letting the dancing flames distract his vision while he considered. He needed to know how the (R/N) felt about this passage. Did it reflect her experiences? It would give him a considerable amount of information on how she perceived her world, and her place in it.

As he went to tuck the small slip of paper (Y/N)’d been using as a bookmark back in, he noticed it had been written upon. He carefully unfolded it, and examined the contents. A delicate, feminine script, more suited to love letters than an adventurer. For some reason it made him smile, but the words, slightly smeared with tears, did not.

Ilberd was _right._

* * *

By the time evening came around, Hades was irritable, hungry, and eager to talk. He’d found a few other notes hidden in (Y/N)’s “personal collection” that seemed to point to discontent with the Eorzean Elite _and_ the other Scions. If his suspicions were correct, she had been overused or mishandled by the Eorzeans, and the Scions had either not supported her or possibly even outright commanded her to act counter to her perception of the “greater good.”

This could play very well for him, or very poorly. At the moment, he realized, (Y/N) was on the verge of being a “free agent”, and could possibly be recruited, but the work would have to be exceedingly delicate. Hades would have to first convince her that he had no intentions of using her that way, _then_ ask for her help with something small in what appeared to be a moment of vulnerability. It would have to be something with no moral shadow whatsoever. Asking for the Library was a good start, but he’d have to wait for any other requests for some time. Given that (Y/N) had read at least _some_ of the work detailing the use of adventurers as pawns by political leaders, she would be wary of any such machinations, which would mean this was going to be a arduously slow process.

Well, he had time. Elidibus was still going about gathering the fragmented pieces of his soul, and he would not make a move that might draw her ire until he was whole again. For now, he would focus on making her think his intentions toward her were much more… carnal. If she thought he saw her as a woman rather than a weapon, she would be too busy fending off romantic advances to see the political ones. 

When Olivier entered, he was carefully stacking the books back as he’d found them, save three that he had specifically selected to _seem_ innocuous: a popular work of fiction from the last five years; a treatise on Eorzean Politics after Carteneau; and an in-depth guide to (R/N) cultural courtship rituals.

The books tucked under his arm, Hades gave an affable wave. “Good evening, Olivier. I was about to ring for you. I suppose I should go dress for dinner?”

The Elezen narrowed his eyes. “Yes. The Mistress is doing so herself at the moment.” Without further explanation, he turned, leading Hades out of the library and back to his rooms.

“You mentioned I have limited run of the manor this morning,” Hades said cheerfully, “How would I go about that? Should I ask to go to specific locations, or can I simply be let to explore?”

Olivier’s hands curled into fists by his side, but then he relaxed. “A bell has been placed in your room. During the day, you may ring for me, and I’ll let you out and you may explore. Doors you cannot pass through will be warded.”

“And if I wish to go exploring at night?” He waggled his eyebrows, but Olivier seemed not to notice.

“My Mistress does not trust you alone at night,” he said, then his voice turned acidic. “Mayhaps she fears to find you looming over her bed.”

Hades smirked. “So her bedchamber is one of those rooms not warded against me? Interesting.”

Olivier rolled his eyes, and pointed to the bedroom door. “I assume you can dress yourself?”

“Of course,” Hades said. “I need the practice, else you might realize how much time I’m spending in her bed.” 

As he closed the door behind him, he heard the Elezen chuckle. “That’s what she wants.”

* * *

The dining room was quite beautiful - intricate parquet flooring, dark cherry panel moulding to the chair rail, giving way to an embossed golden wallpaper of Doman design. Every surface was polished to a high sheen, causing the light from the from the crystal chandelier to catch unsuspecting edges and reflections. The entire room was an exercise in texture, inviting one to touch. _And Zodiark…_ Hades thought, as (Y/N) swept into the room in another evening gown, this one of burgundy velvet, _do I want to touch._

He was rather sure he’d be given the opportunity as well, as the dining table was situated close to the fireplace, leaving a large open expanse of floor, which he crossed with confident steps to pull out her chair. “Lady (L/N),” he said, and gave her an affectionate smile. She took the seat, and murmured thanks while he let his hands slide down the sides of the chair’s high back, pushing it in with his hands just beside her uncovered shoulders, his fingertips barely brushing her skin.

Once he was seated, (Y/N) smiled at him as the servants bustled around them, setting out the hors d'oeuvres - grilled peaches paired with another sharp cheese. Before she could speak, he gestured to the plate. “Another exercise in dichotomy, (Y/N)?” His voice was light, playful teasing. 

Her smile grew as she removed her glove. “You seem to enjoy contradictions, I thought you would like it.” She went to remove the second but he caught her bare hand in his, and pulled it to his lips.

“You look exquisite,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her knuckles, and inhaling softly, savoring the smell of rosewater. Then he released her, enjoying the blush that graced her cheeks and the tops of her ears.

“I admit,” (Y/N) said, glancing away as she removed her second glove, “I wasn’t expecting you to be as… amenable, all things considered.”

Hades chuckled. “It may surprise you, but it’s nice to not have the fate of Amaurot and the other Ascians hanging over me constantly. I lost,” he said, holding up his hands, “I admit defeat.” He let his expression sober, and he regarded her with as much sincerity as he could muster. “It is nice to have this space, where I can meditate on my past, and this second chance you have given me, and decide what I want to do with it, even if it is an imprisonment for my past sins.” He swallowed anxiously into the pause, and gave her a furtive glance. “For what little my thanks might be worth to you, (Y/N), thank you for this. It is more precious than you know.”

Their hands found each other on the tabletop, and he let his thumb glide slowly over her fingers as he stared into her eyes, and fantasized about breaking her. Just when he was imagining her tears as she begged for release - in death or orgasm, he couldn’t decide which he’d prefer - (Y/N) pulled her hand from his. “You should eat, Hades. Olivier said you did not ring for breakfast or lunch. I would be remiss in my care of you if you died from simple starvation.”

“It’s hard to remember to eat when I can’t stop thinking of you,” he whispered. “Would I be importuning if I asked to see you more often than this?”

She smiled playfully. “I take breakfast every morning on my balcony to watch the sun rise. If you can find your way to my rooms in time, you’re welcome to join me.”

Hades smirked. “You know Olivier’s going to lock my door at night.”

(Y/N)’s eyes met his, and her eyebrow raised just a fraction. “Hades, if all it takes is a locked door to stop you from getting what you want, you’re not the man I thought you were.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asked.

“Do you require one?” she countered, then speared a piece of peach on her fork, and popped it into her mouth. A single drop of its juices slipped out of the corner of her lips and she swallowed, then opened her mouth to lick it away, but he was faster.

Hades gripped her upper arm, and levered himself out of his chair, catching the droplet on his tongue then slipping it into her open mouth, crushing her lips with his own. She froze in place, unmoving, as he let himself drink deep of the flavor of peaches and something strange and undeniably _(Y/N)_.


	4. Pawn, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and (Y/N) have a long talk, and she asks for a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it. Please let me know how you feel about the story so far! I'm kind of anxious about this whole InteractiveFics thing, as I haven't done it before.

Hades felt Olivier’s hands grip him - _Zodiark, he is unusually strong,_ \- and tear him away from (Y/N), who raised a hand to her mouth in shock as he was pulled across the room, and set on his feet.

He straightened his clothing, and bowed. “Forgive me, Lady (L/N). I was momentarily overcome.” He let just a touch of a blush color his cheeks and looked to the side. _Shame, not disgust,_ Hades reminded himself. _You want her to think she’s irresistible._ He ignored the small voice that reminded him she was.

“Olivier, it’s fine,” (Y/N) said. “I had been hoping he’d kiss me, anyway. No need to get worked up over it.”

Hades was surprised at the honesty. Shouldn’t she act a bit more demure? _Aah,_ he reminded himself, _but she is Mistress here. What she wants is what rules the day in her own home._

“Still,” he said, straightening, “I have not treated you in the manner etiquette demands, and for that you have my humblest apologies.” Hades let his eyes return to her, finally, and their gazes met, then he looked down again. “I completely understand if you wish to have me returned to my rooms and remain there indefinitely. I have tread upon your hospitality with ill grace.”

“Olivier,” she said, and her steps rang out, a quick staccato on the wooden floors. “Leave us.”

“Lady (Y/N),” the manservant began, “I don’t think -”

“Nor do I pay you to,” she interrupted. “I suggest you leave before I become cross.” Her tone was commanding, and Hades relished every moment of it. He’d seen her display physical power before, but the way she wielded this more ephemeral power, that of position, was just as skilled. _Zodiark,_ he thought, his eyes on the ground, _if only she had been in Garlemald back then - I would have made her empress on the spot._

Olivier moved away, and Hades finally let himself look at (Y/N) when the door closed behind the Elezen.

“Kiss me again,” she said. “Let me pretend there’s something in you worth saving from the Scions.” 

“Lady (L/N),” he stammered, “I don’t know if -”

“Are you a coward, Hades?” (Y/N) asked. Her eyes had pinned him to the spot. “I have no use for cowards.”

Without hesitation, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close, crushing her lips again. Her mouth opened for him as his free arm went around her waist, holding her against him. After a few moments to be sure she wasn’t going to run, and just to enjoy kissing her, he loosened the grip on her upper arm and reached for her hair, pulling the pins from it one by one, and tossing them to the ground while her curls fell about her shoulders in delicious disarray.

“I should hate you, (Y/N),” he growled when she pulled away for breath. “You deserve every onze of my ire.” Their lips met again, and now that her hair was free, he let his gloved fingers thread through it, twisting it in his fist at the base of her skull. She whimpered submissively, her delicate hands clinging to the front of his robes, but he refused to let go of her hair, or let her mouth leave his until his own lungs burned with a need other than the scent of her skin. Then he released her all at once, letting her fall to the floor in a pile of velvet and silk as he straightened himself. “I…” he stammered. “I don’t know what came over me. It seems I am not fit for such pleasant -”

(Y/N) stood. “You want me, but you wish you didn’t,” she replied, smiling softly as she straightened her skirts. “It’s understandable. If it makes you feel any better, the feelings are quite mutual.” She stepped close to him again, and reached out a hand. “Both the wanting you, and wishing I didn’t.”

Hades laughed quietly. “It is all terribly inconvenient, I fear.”

“Do you think it’s worth the risk?” The (R/N)’s voice was as soft as her lips. “We’ve both got a lot of people fighting against this.”

“The other Ascians,” Hades said, taking a step toward her, letting his fingers meet hers.

“The other Scions,” she supplied.

“Garlemald,” he added, and his other arm went about her waist again.

“Eorzea,” she whispered, her free hand going to his shoulder.

“Olivier,” he chuckled, and flicked a finger towards the Orchestrion in the corner. Music filled the room.

“Fuck him,” (Y/N) said, grinning wickedly.

“I’d really rather not,” Hades countered as they began to dance, all thoughts of food forgotten. “I have someone much more interesting in mind.”

“Olivier’s quite interesting,” she laid her head on his chest, letting him lead her through the steps, trusting he knew where to go. “He has many secrets.”

“He’s not the only one,” He heard a pin crunch under his feet, and didn’t particularly care. They danced in silence, enjoying each other and the music for a time, before Hades spoke again. “I wanted to ask you something, but I fear it may be impertinent, given my behavior on the First.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Everything you did on the First was impertinent. I’m used to it where you are concerned.”

He laughed as well. “I noticed a bookmark in one of the books in your library, in a book of _mine_.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, then asked, “Who is Ilberd?”

“Aah,” her dreamlike smile fell away, and she frowned slightly. “His name was Ilberd Feare. He caused more than a little trouble for us.”

“Your bookmark said he was right. About what?”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) said, “It’s not important.”

“Considering where it was in the book it was in,” Hades replied, pushing her back from him a step, before pulling her close with a spin. “I think it might be.”

She swallowed. “He told me they were using us. That we were just pawns in their machinations.”

“Was he right?”

She said nothing until they’d returned to the top of the dance. “I don’t know, yet. But he may have been.”

Hades’ brow furrowed and he frowned. “If he was, what will you do?”

“I don’t know.” Her honest admission came in a soft, innocent voice. “Just a few years ago I was… no one. And now…” Her voice trailed off.

“Now you are the Warrior of Light, contemplating a romance with a retired Ascian, having prevented the literal apocalypse on more than one occassion.” His voice was gentle. “You find yourself thrust into a position of power. Those you considered your greatest supporters now treat you like the answer to all their problems.”

(Y/N) nodded, but said nothing, so Hades continued. “The problem they don’t see, my dear, is that you are a hammer. You are a solitary answer that renders all questions to a single binary - will you intercede?” 

He froze in her arms, pretending to have a revelation now that he’d had earlier this afternoon. “I see,” he whispered.

“What?” her question was exactly as he had imagined it, upturned eyes, innocent voice, unguarded vulnerability. 

“I just - I finally understand the situation,” Hades said. “You were not supposed to save me. That was never part of the plan. Now, someone, probably the other Scions, possibly the rest of the Eorzean Alliance, has demanded that you fix your _mistake_. You have refused. Now the question becomes - are you a tool or a friend? You’re at an impasse, waiting for the response. If you are a tool, then your refusal makes you a mad dog to be put down. If you are a friend, then someone must be sent to _convince_ you.” He glanced aside in thought. “My redemption then becomes a matter of state. Can you redeem me before someone comes to kill us both? Who would they even send? Can you convince the person who comes in the guise of a friend before they convince _you_.”

Her cheeks pink, (Y/N) said, “Yes.”

“Thus, whatever this is between us becomes a problem rather than a pleasure. If we are… _attached_, shall we say, they can claim that you have been compromised.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she confessed, and the weakness in her voice caused him to freeze. Her skirts rustled a moment, continuing the dance a step after the two of them had stilled.

“Neither do I,” he whispered, then looked into her eyes again. “Please,” he pressed his third eye into her forehead. “How can I help?”

(Y/N) shook her head instantly. “I don’t think you can.”

“There has to be something. Even if it’s not related to the larger issue,” he laughed disparagingly. “I’m still an able-bodied man. Do you need me to dig up a flower bed? Maybe Garlemald is giving you some trouble, I can give you some advice? After everything you have done, and are still doing for me, despite great personal risk, I feel I must do you some true kindness, no matter how small.”

She smiled widely, and laughed. “What a scene - Zodiark’s chosen begging to help Hydaelyn’s.”

He joined her laughter with his own, letting his head drop to her shoulder. “Do tell Elidibus, when you go to kill him, then come back and tell me of his reaction, if I yet live.” He kissed her again, but this one was chaste - a demonstration of affection rather than ardor. “In all sincerity, though, I want to help.”

Her shrug shifted his head, and for a moment his lips brushed the curve of her neck, and she froze again. “There is one thing that you may be uniquely qualified to help me with, if you’re sure.”

“I am yours to command, my dear,” he whispered, then pressed his lips to her neck deliberately.

* * *

Hades followed (Y/N) through the halls, his hand clutched in hers, past his bedroom door, and up to the top of the staircase, which ended in a door. She reached into her bodice and removed a small silver key, unlocking the door before they proceeded inside. He looked around, surprised to see the room took up most of the top floor, with a large canopied bed in the center. Other items were scattered around haphazardly, and he realized this wasn’t a receiving room, but her personal bedchamber.

She released his hand and crossed to a low desk. While she searched it, he took stock of his surroundings. (Y/N) was messy, leaving papers and clothing scattered about haphazardly, which he found immensely endearing. She had a Doman lap-harp in one corner, and he was surprised to find the music on the stand was her own composition, in that same romantic hand. He surreptitiously grabbed it, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket as he continued his exploration. 

Near the balcony, he saw a chessboard, carved of ebony and acacia, with corresponding pieces. One of the acacia pawns had been moved forward - e2 to e4. A small smile playing on his lips, he took up an ebony pawn, d7, and moved it to d6.

When he glanced back, (Y/N) was placing a stack of letters on the top of the desk, and he walked back to her and waited until she addressed him. “Your great-grandson, Zenos.” She shook her head, and turned to face him. “He keeps begging for my hand.”

“You’re too precious for him,” Hades said, without hesitation or guile. That was a truth, if nothing else.

“_Precious_?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he pulled himself up straighter, eyeing her. “_Precious_. Women like you are exceptionally rare. They only come along once every few centuries.” _Because they’re all you, (Y/N),_ he thought. “I know, I looked when I was seeking an Empress. Had you been alive when I was rising to power I would have moved heaven and earth to have you beside me. You would have made Garlemald so much more than it is.” He shook his head ruefully. “Regardless, I can’t fault his choice. I simply object to him in general. The fact that I intend to have you for myself only reinforces the advice I would give: _Tell him no._”

“I did.” (Y/N) was blushing, but lifted the stack of letters and held it out to him. “Again and again. He is simply... “ she shrugged. “Refusing to accept my refusal.” She sagged slightly, leaning against the desk.

Hades took the letters and leaned against the desk beside her, looking them over. “Well, I have to give him credit - I would have done much the same. Maybe he _is_ descended from me.” She chuckled. “What does the Emperor think?”

Her face fell instantly, and he frowned. “Dead? He just inherited the damn throne, _from me_. How did he die?”

She swallowed. “Zenos killed him.” 

Whistling appreciatively, Hades looked through the letters again. “I can think of a few ways to handle this, but some of them depend on me, don’t they?”

(Y/N) nodded. “My response, at least, would depend on what you intend to do with your second chance.”

“And my response, if any, would depend on the same.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and laughed. “It seems I have much to consider. Would you be angry if I asked to adjourn this until breakfast tomorrow and took the rest of supper in my rooms?” 

She shook her head, her loose curls brushing her shoulders. “I need to think, as well. About... us, I suppose. If there is an us, or could be.”

Without a word he turned, pulling her close for another kiss.

When they parted, he headed for the door, opened it and stopped, looking back at her. “It would never be easy, (Y/N), but Zodiark, it would be _glorious._” With that, he headed out, pulling the door shut behind him.


	5. Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades makes his moves while (Y/N) sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Here we go! Time to start having stuff happen other than flirting and dancing.
> 
> Also if you want to chat, or just want another way to be notified when I post a chapter, you can find me on twitter, @rhadharani1931

> _To the Lady (Y/N) (L/N)  
Of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn_
> 
> _Greetings and Most Felicitous Tidings on this Auspicious Day,_
> 
> _It is with great joy that we inform you that the Crown Prince of the Eternal Empire of Garlemald, Zenos yae Galvus, has selected you for the unparallelled honor of becoming his bride. While we are sure this news comes… _   


  
Hades glanced at the date of the letter, frowning. _Elidibus._ This letter had been sent after Elidibus had taken control of Zenos’ mouldering corpse, before (Y/N) had gone to the First. Given what he had learned of recent events - Zenos had taken back his body and assassinated his father - he had to admit the boy was one to contend with, at least.

The retired Ascian flipped through the letters, looking for some sign of when the transfer had happened - did Zenos actually want her hand, or was it merely one of his erstwhile allies games? _There_. Hades took the first one that had been written in Zenos’ personal hand, not that of a secretary, and read it.

>   
_My one true friend,_
> 
> _You know my love for the hunt, and that did not change with my death. Now that I am newly risen to my throne, my hunt must take a different form. I will _have_ you, (Y/N), -_  


  
Hades tore his eyes away from the page and glowered, analyzing the irritation he felt at the _boy_ using her name so informally. He was suddenly filled with an urge to be the only one allowed to call her that, and laid his head on the small desk in his chamber, his dinner forgotten, and contemplated what he wanted. _It is only by knowing exactly what we want that we can formulate a plan to achieve it._

(Y/N)’s silhouette floated in his mind, not who she was now, but who she had _been_ in ancient Amaurot. He wasn’t ready to confront that yet, not completely, so he banished it, focusing on the woman upstairs. “Lady (Y/N)” - that was what Olivier had called her - and that felt right. That is what those close to her may call her, he decided. Hades laughed at himself, feeling so possessive over something as innocuous as her name, but it did not change his desire - he wanted the right to call her by her name, to call her (Y/N), stripped of all formality, to be his and his _alone_.

How would he go about that? At the moment, he had no right to object to anything regarding her - she was his warden, for all that he began to suspect the chains went both ways. Stripped of his Ascian abilities, he had little power to change things himself. 

He glanced at the signature at the bottom of the letter, sizing up his great-grandson for the first time not as a potential heir, but a rival.

_Zenos <s>yae</s> zos Galvus_

Hades grinned, and began to laugh maniacally, the unexpected answer falling into place around him. As Emet-Selch, Hades, The Architect, Paragon of the Source, he had no power. 

But that was not all he was.

* * *

“Elidibus,” he said, and heard the soft whisper of the other Ascian’s arrival as he reviewed the letter in his hands one last time.

>   
_To the Crown Prince of the Eternal Empire of Garlemald  
Zenos _yae_ Galvus_
> 
> _Greetings._
> 
> _It has come to our attention that not only have you taken to styling yourself with our title and crown, but you have made designs on Lady (Y/N) (L/N), of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We are thus forced to lay things out simply enough so that your small mind can comprehend:_
> 
> _You will immediately cease your attempts to undermine our sovereignty._
> 
> _You will immediately return to styling yourself ‘yae’, and accept the title of Crown Prince if you wish to remain our heir._
> 
> _You will immediately cease your attempts to court the Lady (L/N), and issue a formal apology for both your unwelcome advances and your informality._
> 
> _If these orders are not carried out to our satisfaction with all haste, we will not hesitate to return to the capital and re-establish our authority._
> 
> _With expectations of your obedience, _
> 
> _Solus zos Galvus  
Emperor of Garlemald_   


  
“What do you want, Emet-Selch?” his companion sighed. “I was busy helping _you_.”

“While I’m aware, and thank you for the assistance, there’s a task that only you can see done at the moment.” Hades offered up the letter. “I need this to make its way to Zenos, but _not_ discreetly. I want as many Garleans as possible to read this letter before it reaches his hands.”

Elidibus read the letter, and a small smile twitched his lips. “I did tell you to keep them busy.”

He nodded. “And with Garlemald looking to find me - for all their tests will show that I _am_ the author of this missive, and even a basic scrying will tell them I am somewhere in Eorzea - they will have their hands full trying to prevent what could quickly become a full-scale invasion.”

“You do still have a number of admirers in the upper echelons of the imperial government,” Elidibus agreed, then tucked the letter into his robe. “But I note you included a command for Zenos to stop courting (Y/N).”

_”Lady (L/N),”_ Hades snapped the correction before he could stop himself, then coughed.

The other Ascian - the only other person in existence who remembered Amaurot - smiled. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still just as fiercely possessive of her.” Hades said nothing, so Elidibus continued, “I will take your letter. Good luck on your courtship, Emet-Selch. Let’s see if you can do better this time.” Then he was gone.

Hades scowled and turned, kicking the leg of the desk, then shook away his anger. He had another letter to write.

* * *

The lock was extremely simple to pick, almost as though she had intended he would do so from the beginning. One of her hair pins, found wedged into the tread on the bottom of his shoe, had been the only tool he needed to get it open, and he was free of his room.

The candelabra in the hallway only had one candle lit, and the vase below it stood empty - the flowers having been removed by servants the night before to be replaced in the morning. The whole manor seemed still, as if holding its breath for what he would do now that he had committed his first demonstrable act of disobedience.

The pin still clutched in his fingers, he made his way up the stairs, towards (Y/N)’s room. Every movement was an anxiety ridden endeavor as he carefully gauged each step to ensure he made no sound, and he thanked Zodiark for the plush burgundy carpet that ran down the center to mask his footfalls.

Finally, he found himself before her bedroom, and carefully tried, then picked the lock, in breathless silence. The door latch falling open sounded almost thunderous in his ears, and he winced, despite himself. Still, he crept in, and pushed the door shut behind him, moving the handle as slowly as possible to latch it shut behind him without making noise.

Her bedroom was dark save the moonlight streaming in from the open doors that led out onto the balcony. He followed its path, over the small wrought iron table, along the stone until it gave way to the interior wooden floors, over the detritus of her life scattered across the floors until it came at last to her bed.

The bed curtains were thrown open, allowing the breeze to alleviate the dry heat of the Thanalan, and the sight of her naked form in the bed filled him with delight. He couldn’t see anything crassly erotic, just those things that all lovers of the arts adored - the soft curves of her back, the unkempt tousle of hair. A smile crept across his face, and another devilish idea came to him.

Hades found pen and ink and paper in her desk, but was forced to carry a chair and small table to her bedside. While she slept, unguarded, he drew her. First a few quick sketches to get the framing right, and then in exquisite detail, focusing more than anything on capturing her essence on the page. Once he finished the first, he laid it out to dry, and began a second, this one being quickly covered in pounce then folded away neatly into his inside pocket once dry. He wanted a souvenir of his little adventure.

That finished, he headed for the balcony, but stopped on his way. Another piece on the chessboard had been moved - the pawn at d2 to d4. With a twist of his lips, he decided to be bold, and took the knight at g8, and moved it to f6, then proceeded outside for the first time in days.

The night air felt lovely on his skin, and Hades closed his eyes, inhaling the desert breeze. Though it was no Amaurot, in the quiet beauty of the Source he could find echoes of his homeland, and he savored them every chance he got. 

(Y/N)’s grounds were filled with all the expected fripperies - hedge maze, fountains, secret benches in unexpected corners. He was surprised to spot a small garden growing vegetables, hidden behind a large rose garden. Another spark of genius struck him, and he reached down, pulling off his shoe, and threw it toward the hedge maze.

When it landed harmlessly amongst the bushes, Hades laughed. The wards had been extended to allow him into the gardens. With a laugh, he climbed easily down the ornate stonework of the outside of the manor, and went to fetch his shoe.

* * *

A few hours later, as dawn approached, Hades put the finishing touches on his handiwork. He laid the portrait he had drawn of (Y/N) on the pillow beside her head, and with it, a rose he had stolen from the garden. The maid had already set out her breakfast while he hid beneath the balcony, and now he had to add one final touch. 

He took a few of the flaky fruit pastries left in a basket, and ate all but the last half of one, leaving it pointedly on a plate across from her place setting. Then, he prepared himself a cup of tea from the kettle, drank half of it, and set it beside his plate. Then he took the second letter he had written from his pocket, and set it on (Y/N)’s plate, to ensure she received it.

With a last wistful sigh, Hades stepped back into the room, only to freeze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another piece had been moved on the chessboard - the knight at b1 had been moved to c3. He glanced towards the bed, but (Y/N) still seemed to be asleep. He grit his teeth, and grabbed the pawn at g7, moving it to g6.

Hades only made one stop on his way out of the room, and that was to press his lips to (Y/N)’s temple before returning to his bedchamber.

* * *

As her bedroom door clicked shut, (Y/N) opened her eyes. She’d heard him scratching with that pen for hours, and was pleased to see he’d spent his time well. Hades was immensely skilled at art, and she felt something… strange, at the thought that he had chosen to draw her, of anything. The climbing off the balcony hadn’t been expected, but he had returned with a rose for her, and she smiled at his childish romanticism.

“Smiling, (Y/N)?” Olivier asked, stepping out of the shadows. “I thought you were going to steal his heart, not vice versa.”

She climbed out of bed and plucked a robe from the floor, pulling it about her waist and cinching it. “He left a letter on the balcony.”

Olivier rolled his eyes. “I saw.”

“Oh, Can’t you be happy for me?” (Y/N) said, heading for the balcony. As she passed the chess board she reached out, and moved the bishop at c1 to e3, just behind her pawn, without slowing her steps. “I’ve finally found someone worthy of me.” She flopped, unceremoniously into her usual seat while Olivier filled her teacup. 

“He ate the cherry danishes,” he said, glancing at the basket. “You’ll have to make due with apple.”

“Have to train that out of him…” she murmured, opening the letter.

“With all due respect, (Y/N), I doubt you’ll be training him out of anything. If I am correct, he’ll do it just to spite you for as long as he has the opportunity.” Olivier glanced at her, but (Y/N) was absorbed in reading the letter, her cheeks pink. “You’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, but Olivier knew he was right.

>   
_My dearest (Y/N),_
> 
> _May I call you that, my sweet? I shall proceed as if you have given your consent, for frankly, Lady (L/N) sounds so stuffy and confining for one who is a breath of fresh air after all these centuries. In my mind you are (Y/N), and that name rings with the hope and promise of this second chance._
> 
> _I had intended to join you for breakfast, but you were sleeping so soundly that I decided it best not to disturb you. Mayhap tomorrow I will wake you, or the day after, but this morning, at least, I wanted to savor the sight of you so peaceful. Zodiark willing, there will be a lifetime of such mornings for me to spend with you awake, so that I can feel no remorse in enjoying one with you asleep._
> 
> _Thus, we come to the heart of the matter, my dear. A decision that I have made, for myself, the Zenos issue, and my second chance. The first, and most important - I would like to formally announce my intentions to court you. I spent all of our time on the First observing you, and here, in your manner, these last two days one thought has repeated itself, over and over: You were born to be an Empress. If it were mine to give, I would rebirth Amaurot, and set you at the pinnacle of that great city - to rule over it all in an eternal paradise. _
> 
> _But the nature of this change you and Hydaelyn have wrought upon me means I do not have that, merely this mortal life, this mortal shell, so I would offer you what I do have left to me: Garlemald. I can do so much with that nation that I have guided, and with the near-godlike veneration they have of me, but I only want it if I can give it to you, (Y/N). _
> 
> _Thus, I have also solved the Zenos problem. I have sent orders to him telling him to cease his courtship of you at once. A direct order from me, even when I am believed dead, will be a sword in the anthill of the imperial court. _
> 
> _Let me love you, (Y/N). Let me bring such sweetness to your life. Let me serve you in any way I can. Be mine, (Y/N), and in so doing, claim all of me there is - all the ambition, all the drive, all the devotion, all the adoration, all the power._
> 
> _Rule the Source with me.  
-H_   


  
“What does it say?” Olivier asked.

(Y/N) smirked. “He’s offered me everything. I intend to accept.” Her smirk spread into a wicked grin. “But I’m going to make him suffer first.”

Olivier sighed. “Yes, my lady.”

* * *

Zenos zos Galvus did not like whispers. They always set his teeth on edge, and implied cowardice. If someone wanted to say something, they should stand forward, and defend their words with their truth or their body. Yet here he was, striding through the halls of the imperial palace, and he heard whispers echo from behind pillars and locked doors.

Worse, (Y/N) had not answered his latest letter. He expected another refusal, of course, but he had to secure his power here in the capital before he could go fetch her from Eorzea. She had time to make her play at being untouchable. She would be his. His great heritage demanded nothing less than her subjugation in battle, be it in the field or the bed.

He stormed into the throne room, ready to begin the day’s business, but to his surprise, it was near deserted. “What’s this?” he snapped at a passing servant. “Where are my legati?”

The servant swallowed anxiously and bowed. “I do not know, Your Imperial Majesty. Perhaps...?” He gestured to the servant kneeling by the throne, holding out a tray with a letter on it.

Zenos strode toward the throne and snatched the letter without a word to the man on bended knee, then opened it to read.

The hall was silent for a few minutes, then he began to laugh hysterically.

“Oh, (Y/N)... it’s to be another glorious hunt, then? As you wish, my friend.”


	6. Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and Sadayo deal with Zenos's response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know in the comments what you think of the direction this is going! I may edit the tags as the characters seem to go in a different direction than I originally anticipated.

“I don’t care!” Olivier’s sharp yell woke Hades with a start. He sat up and shook his head. _What on earth is he on about?_ the Ascian grumbled as he pulled himself out of bed. He’d been up nearly all night, and frankly, just wanted to sleep a bit longer, but if Olivier was shouting, something was going on.

Hades listened to what he could as he pulled a fresh change of clothes from the armoire.

“It’s bad enough having him in the house! Now you want another one?” It seemed Olivier was the only one he could hear, and he stiffened at the idea of ‘another one’. There was no _other_ Hades.

“And when is he supposed to arrive, (Y/N)? Did you consider that? Is he bringing an entourage?” He gritted his teeth and nearly tore the shirt in his hand, but managed to pull it on. _Lady (L/N) to you, boy_, he thought.

“I’m not interested in living in the Garlean Embassy!” _A Garlean Embassy?_ Hades pondered. _Probably a delegation from a high legatus, to investigate the letter. They do move quickly._

“(Y/N)!” At the Elezen’s echoing cry, Hades slammed the Armoire shut and buckled his belt. He’d had enough of that boy shrieking her name so casually. He was a servant, and by Zodiark he was about to be reminded of that.

The retired Ascian stormed across the room and grabbed the door handle.

“You cannot seriously mean to have _two_ Garlean emperors staying in your manor in the middle of bloody _Eorzea!_” 

Hades found the door was locked, but jerked it open anyway, tiny steel screws and the lock plate skittering across the floor. The physical violence, however small, gave him some measure of relief. 

When he reached the ground floor, he found (Y/N) sitting in an armchair, her hands folded in her lap, her face that perfect porcelain mask. Olivier was scowling at him. “I haven’t let you out of your rooms. You could at least _pretend_-”

“You’re not worth the theater of it,” Hades snarled, and abruptly turned to (Y/N). “My lady, I heard shouting. Is everything all right?”

She gave Olivier a pointed look. “I told you to keep it down.” When her eyes returned to Hades, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on the red-rims around her eyes. She’d been crying. “This dispatch arrived from Garlemald just after I took my luncheon.” 

(Y/N) held out a small slip of paper, from a Garlean Ticker-Tape machine towards him, and he tugged it from her grasp.

>   
_His Imperial Majesty, Zenos zos Galvus, sends word that he will arrive at your manor at noon, two days hence. He will remain until you have given a favorable reply to the great honor he would bestow upon you._   


  
Not for the first time, Hades thanked Zodiark for these ticker tape machines. They forced a dispatch to be brief.

“I don’t see why _he_ gets an opinion,” Olivier continued, glowering as he approached. “He’s just going to try to rope you into more of this Garlean drama, (Y/N) -”

Without looking up, Hades backhanded Olivier across the cheek, savoring the sweet release the strike brought him. “I think you meant to say _Lady (L/N)_, Olivier.”

The Elezen opened his mouth, but (Y/N) held up her hand. “Please, Olivier, don’t incite him any further.”

The manservant straightened, his face twisted into a disapproving scowl. “My lady. I will see to the preparations. As we don’t have a spare bedroom, where should we put the _other_ emperor?”

“I don’t know yet. I will consider it. For now ensure that the staff are prepared for the extra burden, and put plans in train for a formal welcoming luncheon.” (Y/N) looked up at Hades, and something flickered in the back of her eyes. “I must see what can be moved-”

“I can be,” Hades interrupted. She raised an eyebrow, and he grinned. “Your bed was big enough for two.”

“I have a chaise lounge you can sleep on, if you really wish to be in my rooms, but you have not earned a place in my bed, yet.” Still, she laughed, and Hades considered that a victory. Just as he wanted to be the only one who had her name, he wanted to be the only one who had her tears.

“Any excuse to be nearer to you, (Y/N).” He reached out and stroked her cheek with a gloved hand, and imagined her weeping for him, weeping because of any of a thousand imagined hurts he had caused her, and smiled.

Olivier rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room, leaving them alone, and Hades took her hand, pulling (Y/N) to her feet.

“My lady,” he whispered, and stared at her in silence for a few moments. “I hope my letter is not what brought you to tears.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Just… dealing with Zenos.”

The space between them, bridged only by their hands, felt awkward and unwelcome, but Hades did not want to push too much too quickly. The intimacy of her bedchamber was still raw in his memory. “Would you care to walk with me in the gardens, (Y/N)? We can talk, away from prying Elezen.”

She laughed softly. “Yes. I’d like that.”

* * *

The afternoon gardens were blisteringly hot, but (Y/N) seemed untroubled in a simple cotton dress, and the way the breeze tugged locks of her hair free and twisted them about made him feel something strange.

They walked in silence through the hedge maze, but she seemed to know where she was going, and sure enough they soon found a small fountain with tiny orange fish darting about beneath the surface, shaded by the high hedge walls.

(Y/N) took a seat on the edge of the fountain, and he joined her, taking a moment to unbutton the pearls at each wrist of his gloves, and tuck them away in a pocket before removing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves.

“Why did you pick the Goblet, of all places, my dear?” Hades asked. “The Lavender Beds would have been much cooler, and the Mists would have the benefit of sea breezes. Not to mention Shirogane, given your predilection for Doman art.”

(Y/N) laughed. “I admit, it’s the view of the night sky that drew me.” She set her hand on the edge of the fountain between them and leaned back a little. “Shirogane and the Mists are prone to storms, and the Lavender Beds have all those trees. Here, the sky is clear nearly every night, and I can go stare up at the stars whenever I need comfort.”

“They bring you that comfort, then?” He cast his eye over her profile, committing it to memory.

“No. They make me homesick.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “But I don’t know what for. I just…” (Y/N) paused and looked at him, her eyes reflecting weary pain. “I feel like there is comfort waiting for me, out there somewhere, if only I could find it again. But I know that it isn’t in Eorzea.”

“Eorzea has its charms,” Hades said, and he grinned inwardly as she realized what charm he was talking about, “but I fear you were made for greater things than squabbling city-states.”

(Y/N) looked away again. “Tell me about Garlemald.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Hades let his hand fall between them, covering hers, and told her all about his empire. The way it changed from struggling agricultural kingdom to a magitek utopia; the dark, industrial peace of the streets of the capital; the glittering masques and entertainment of the Imperial court - all of this he laid at her feet, word by word. 

When he his voice began to get horse, she asked, “Do you think I will enjoy living there?”

Hades froze and began calculating. If she was thinking about this, then she was considering the practical aspects of what he had offered - a good sign. He turned the question over in his mind before answering. “You will, I think. We’d have to take one of the country manors out of mothballs, of course. From what I have seen you would want to have a place to get away from the city from time to time, and, in truth, I would want a place where I could have you all to myself, without the courtiers begging for your favor. But overall, I believe you will be happy. Why do you ask?”

“Zenos is coming,” she swallowed, “And I fear that no matter my maneuvering, when this is through, I cannot escape. No matter what I do, I will cease to be (Y/N) (L/N), and become (Y/N) yae Galvus - the only question is which one of you will sit the throne beside me.”

Hades paused, giving thought to the question, and realized she was right. Zenos coming here wasn’t just a battle for her hand, it was a battle for the throne of Garlemald. Whomever won this game in the sanctity of her home would walk out, not only with the greatest prize on the Source, but the throne of Garlemald as well. “I hope you know I have no intentions of playing fairly.”

“Neither do I,” (Y/N) said, and she gave him an impish grin that didn’t reach her eyes, but he pressed down, letting his fingers slip between hers on the edge of the fountain, and kissed her gently. He could taste the tears as they came on, and when their lips parted he let her collapse against his chest and sob herself out, his free arm wrapping around her and holding her close.

When she pulled away and wiped her eyes, he lifted the hand still clasped in his to his lips, and kissed her palm. “Tell me, (Y/N).”

“Did anyone tell you how Zenos died?” She asked.

“I was told he fell in battle, against you?” he added a quarter-twist of question. If it bothered her, then the official report and what actually happened may be different.

(Y/N) shook her head, her hair flowing in the motion. “I defeated him, but had not killed him,” the _yet_ she could add to that sentence hung in the air. “Then he laughed. He went on about how he was finally feeling something…” She swallowed, “And then he lifted his sword to his throat, said goodbye to me, and committed suicide.” Though she was not looking at him, Hades could see the haunted echoes in her eyes. “I know it’s probably silly, asking, considering how ancient you are, but have you ever seen that? Seen someone take their own life in front of you? Watched the light of _self_ leave their eyes? Only for them to come back unexpectedly, and realize you will have to look into those eyes again?”

Hades clenched his jaw, but the memory came upon him unbidden.

>   
Hydaelyn’s strike sent a hail of pale blue bolts down upon the population, shattering them, in a great wave of unmaking that seemed to rush towards Emet-Selch.
> 
> He had failed. Zodiark could not stand against Her. He felt loss, and despair, but quiet comfort in the knowledge he had done all he could.
> 
> Then a sudden weight slammed into him, knocking him a few steps back, and _she_ was looking up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the blue light ate her apart from the inside out.
> 
> “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll give Her everything else.”
> 
> “But not you.”  


  
“Hades,” (Y/N)’s voice called him back, and he realized he was clutching her against his chest as tightly as he could. “Hades,” she repeated, her voice raspy with the strain it was to breathe, but he did not let go. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and released her. “No, forgive me. Your question brought back memories I want to forget. I should not have…” Hades trailed off when he realized she hadn’t pulled away, so he returned his hands to her back. “Aah, my dear, I fear we are both doomed.” He chuckled lightly into her ear. “Tell the boy to stay away. Let me have you to myself.”

“You know I can’t,” she whispered. “If I refuse him, he’ll come with soldiers. So long as he thinks this is still a game, then the only people in danger are in this manor.” (Y/N)’s forehead pressed into his shoulder. “I just need to figure out where I will put him. I don’t have an infinite number of spare rooms. And as tempting as your offer is, he will take you sleeping in my room as an immediate threat.” 

“Put him in my room.” They both looked up to see Olivier looming over them. “We can bring in a few furnishings to spruce it up, and I can stay with the rest of the servants.”

(Y/N) considered it. “Are you sure? This is your home, too.”

Olivier waved the comment away dismissively. “I am here to serve you, in whatever capacity is necessary.” His eyes slipped to Hades. “I don’t want to give him any _more_ excuses to slip into your room.”

Hades scoffed. “As if I need one, but your kindness is appreciated, even if it gives me less opportunity to bed (Y/N).”

The woman in question’s cheeks instantly flushed, and he began to laugh. “Oh Zodiark, (Y/N), don’t tell me…”

She said nothing, but stood, straightening her skirts. “I should go.”

“(Y/N), wait,” He stood as well, and caught her wrist in his hand, ignoring Olivier and pulling her back. “Let me see you for supper, without the formality.”

“What?” She relaxed a little, and he pulled her back into his arms.

“I want to spend an evening with you the way you like - the way you spent your evenings before I was here.” Hades gave into the urge to brush her hair out of her face. “I want to spend more time with you without the theater of etiquette.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and he heard her voice again, echoing from the distant past.

_“I’ll give Her everything else. But not you.”_

Well, that had been a lie in the end, hadn’t it?

* * *

A clock in the hall chimed seven times as Hades found himself climbing the stairs to (Y/N)’s bedchamber. The door was unlocked, standing slightly ajar, and he knocked softly on the frame as he entered, and shut it pointedly behind him. He might be welcome, but he didn’t want anyone else to be. 

(Y/N) was leaning against her desk, chatting amicably with the maid setting out a light dinner on the balcony. He paid the help little mind, and crossed to the lady of the house, putting his arms around her and kissing her roughly. She _squeaked_ in surprise, but he just laughed into her lips, deepening the kiss and pulling her against him. The maid giggled, and he heard a click as she exited, leaving him alone with his… whatever they were to each other, now.

“You can give me everything I need, (Y/N),” he whispered against her lips. “Please. Deny Zenos.”

Her eyes were calculating as she looked up at him. “Why? What more can you offer me that he can’t?”

“You don’t want him.” Hades ran his gloved fingers down her spine where it was revealed by her gown. “You won’t ever gasp for him. You won’t ever _burn_ for him. We both know it.” He lowered his lips to her neck, and grinned to feel her pulse quicken.

“Wanting, gasping, burning: since when have they ever had a place in the life of an empress?” Her voice was reedy with desire, but she tried to pull away. He moved his legs, pinning her own between his against the desk. 

“You would not be just _any_ empress, (Y/N). You would be _my_ empress - and I take very good care of things that are mine.”

“I’m not a _thing_,” she whispered, but he dragged his fingers from her spine to the shoulder of her gown, pushing it down so that he could clutch at the delicate curve of her shoulder. Her skin flushed.

“I know,” Hades chuckled. “It makes your submission all the sweeter.”

“I don’t recall submitting to you, at all, Hades.” She was trying to sound hard, but her voice shook, and he chuckled darkly. 

“You submit with every beat of your traitorous heart,” he whispered, licking the soft flutter of her pulse beneath her chin. “You submit with every smoldering glance.” He scraped his teeth over her neck. “You submit with every fiber of your being, because you want to _feel_ something, even if it’s only terrifying ecstasy.” He sank those same teeth into her skin as hard as he could, and delighted in the noise she made - a groan, a gasp, a scream, a cry, all together. 

When Hades finally let go, he was pleased to see her skin darkening quickly, a sign of an oncoming bruise. (Y/N) lifted one hand to press against where he’d bit her, and looked up at him, confused and fearful.

“You’re _untouched_, aren’t you?” He asked, already sure of her response. When she blushed and looked away, he nodded. “Then you are mine. I will not allow any other outcome, whatever charade you insist on.” Hades lifted one hand, turning her head to face him. “I want you to listen very closely to what I am telling you, _(Y/N)_. If I ever suspect anyone else has found their way to your bed, I will destroy everything. Eorzea, Garlemald, Othard, the Source, _everything_.”

“What,” she snorted, her voice accusatory, “and if I had been with someone else you wouldn’t care?”

“Oh, I’d have them killed, but that would be about it. I would have cared little if you had already been with someone, but the fact that you haven’t is an entirely different situation.” He grabbed at her skirts in frustration. “I want as much of you as there is to be had,” he whispered, and pressed his hips against her so she could feel his growing need, even through her layers of silk. “I will be the one to _break_ you, (Y/N), or I will die trying.”

She whimpered, and he could feel her trembling between him and the desk. “Not tonight. I’m not ready.”

He groaned and pressed his third eye into her temple. “Very well,” he murmured. “But I will not wait forever. I will take what is mine, (Y/N).” Hades stepped back and straightened himself, then offered his arm. “We should eat before the food gets cold.”

“We should,” she whispered, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow, and he escorted her to the balcony. On the way, he took the bishop from h6, and moved it to g7.

* * *

It was late at night, and they sat together on the balcony, drinking a sweet mint tea that was popular amongst the wealthy of Ul’dah. Dinner had long ago been cleared away, so the only things on the table were a small candelabra, a pot of tea, and their hands, twisted together tightly as they stared up at the now-solitary moon. He would glance at her occasionally, and the pain in her eyes from that afternoon had appeared again, though she said nothing.

“You asked me, earlier, if I had ever seen someone take their own life in front of me.” Hades said, softly. “And the answer to that is ‘yes and no’.”

(Y/N) turned to face him, but he continued to look up at the moon. “There was a woman, in Amaurot. We were not lovers, not yet, but she was…” He swallowed and looked away. “I had made my intentions clear.” 

Hades tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hand, and she tightened hers in response. “I can’t talk about all of it. Even now, eons later, it is difficult to think of, much less discuss.” He laughed ruefully at himself. “But, she was precious to me. As you are.”

No matter how he searched the moon, he could not find his answers there.

“When Hydaelyn struck Her blow, and shattered Zodiark - and all of Amaurot, it seemed a great wave of aetherial arrows, falling, and piercing the heart of all who were in that ancient paradise.” He swallowed. “Elidibus and Lahabrea avoided it as they were off-world when the strike came. They returned to find all sundered, save me.

“But she, the woman I…” he closed his eyes. “She was going to be spared, as Hydaelyn’s chosen. But she dove in front of the shot intended to sunder me, and let it sunder her instead.”

They sat in silence for a long time, neither of them saying anything, but Hades could feel her eyes on him. When he felt himself again, he turned to her. “I found her again. And again. And again and again and again. Every time she is reborn on the Source, I seek her out. Every time, she belongs to someone else when I find her.” He frowned, and lifted her hand to his lips, staring into her eyes meaningfully.

“But not this time.”


	7. Queen (EX)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and (Y/N) spend the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is explicit.

(Y/N) stared at Hades, and her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but then she pulled her hand from his, and stood. “I’m getting tired.”

He stood as well, and bowed. “I will show myself out, (Y/N).”

“No,” she whispered. “I mean, I…” She turned from him, and he saw her hand move over the chessboard as she proceeded into the room. He followed her, and glanced down, seeing she’d moved the Queen from d1 to d2. He glanced up, and she was clinging to her bedpost, shaking. He moved the pawn from c7 to c6, then went to her.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered, and placed a hand in the center of her back. She turned, and tears were streaming down her cheeks unchecked. The sight made Hades draw in a sharp breath. He had made her cry, and he wanted her the more for it. Unable to resist, he brought both hands to her head and tilted her face up toward his. He could feel her tears along his skin, and he brushed one away with his thumb, idly, before leaning down to lick another from her cheekbone. The salt of it drove him mad. Tears for him, tears for herself, so many tears, so delicious. 

Hades kissed her, holding her by her head, and her fists twisting against his shoulders. When he broke away, she shook her head. “I need to get changed,” she whispered, looking away, but he didn’t let go of her.

“Tell me what you want, (Y/N).” His voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but he purred the words into her ear. “You said ‘No’ when I went to leave, so I will have an answer from you before I go.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she said, looking up at him. “I’m not ready for…” Her voice trailed off. “But I don’t want you to go.”

“The two do not go hand in hand,” he whispered softly. “I can stay the night without riding you, if you wish.” Hades laughed. “Though it would certainly try my patience.”

“Would you?” her voice was hopeful, and that undid him almost as much as the tears. 

“Of course, my lady,” He kissed her forehead. “Would you prefer I left while you changed into your nightclothes, and returned in mine, or shall I sleep in my underthings?” Hades leaned toward her ear, and murmured, “Or I can sleep nude, to help you get used to what things will be like in our marriage bed.”

(Y/N) gasped, and he purred, “Nude it is, then.” He reached for the lacings on the back of her dress. She went to pull away, but he shook his head. “I _will_ undress you, (Y/N). I said I wouldn’t ride you, but I did not say I wouldn’t look at you or touch you. Now, you can hold still, and let me do this, or you can make me hold you down and strip you. Whichever you prefer.” He grasped the lacings to see if she would balk, but to her credit, she didn’t, she just stood before him trembling.

With practiced hands he loosened the bodice, then reached for the tie that held her skirt in place, letting them both fall to the floor in a heap. Petticoat after petticoat joined them, before he carefully unlatched the busk at the front of her corset and tossed it to the ground as well, leaving her only in her soft linen chemise and thigh highs.

Seeing them, Hades chuckled, and tugged the bottom of her chemise up so that he could run a finger along the lace and ribbons at the top of her thighs, so near the heaven he yearned for. “These you can keep on, I think.” He let his finger drift up along the curve of her hips beneath the linen, biting his lower lip. “I would most assuredly go back on my word if I had to watch that lace slide over your thighs tonight.” 

Gripping the chemise in his hand, Hades pulled it off over her head in a single quick jerk. The shift, pulling her forward, caused her to stumble, and she fell back on the bed, revealed to him at last. He groaned at the sight of her, then reached for his shirt, the buttons slipping open under his fingers while his eyes raked over her body. In moments, he was nude, and he grinned when her eyes went wide and blush colored her cheeks - a sure sign she had seen what was waiting for her, when he lost his patience with her unreadiness.

(Y/N) moved away from him, but he prowled into the bed after her, catching her by her silk-clad ankle and pulling her back towards him. “You’re mine, (Y/N). I’ve already agreed to fight for you during the day, but I will not have you trying my patience at night.” He loomed over her on the mattress, then dipped his head to kiss her. “Why don’t you lie back and get comfortable. I want to explore, and I’m going to take my time.”

“Hades, I-” She began, but he placed a finger on her lips. 

“I’m looking for obedience, not arguments, woman. I am trying to be kind, but I can just as easily tie you down and do this, if you are not willing to submit.” He returned his attention to her body, palming one of her breasts in satisfaction, pleased with the size and shape of it.

(Y/N) whimpered, and he grinned wickedly at her. “You want more, don’t you?” She said nothing, so he continued, moving his hands over her body in slow, methodical exploration, carefully avoiding her sex, even when her blush crept down her neck, past the virulent purple bruise; even when her hips began to move of their own accord, rising to meet his fingers every time they passed.

“H-Hades…” her voice was trembling as much as she was. She inhaled deeply - and he watched her chest expand in fascination as she did - then exhaled slowly, in an attempt to calm herself. “You need to stop. I’m losing control.”

He laughed, moving over her, the bright moonlight casting her delicate form in a world of blue and black. “I’m amused you think you had any control in the first place, (Y/N). You may have bested me on the First, but that was when I thought I could not have you.” Hades dipped his head, catching her earlobe in his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. “I constantly wondered which of them it was. Which one I was going to kill if the ensuing Calamity didn’t.” He brushed his fingertips over her ribs. “Was it that brutish man, Thancred, satiating his thirst for the Oracle of Light in your bed instead? The thought that it might be him made me murderous - you must be loved for you, not as a proxy for a woman long dead.” His hands moved to her hips. “Was it that Elezen, Urianger? I would have almost forgiven that - of all of them, he is the most like us, and has worked with Elidibus in the past. I would have written it off as a secret longing for me that you did not know you had, and his death would have been painless.”

(Y/N) moaned, and he whispered in her ear, “I did not realize what game we were playing, much to my discredit. You have done an excellent job so far, and should be quite proud you got as far as you did.” He caught her hands in his, and pinned them over her head, holding them there while his other hand returned to exploring.

“W-what is that supposed to mean?” She didn’t even try to hide the longing in her voice, and he rewarded her by nibbling at her collarbone, eliciting a series of quiet whimpers.

“You are still a mortal woman, and for all that you and Hydaelyn conspired to sunder me, I am still Emet-Selch of the Convocation of Fourteen.” His mouth moved to her sternum, kissing between her breasts. “I am still an Ascian.” He straightened again, and let his free hand move to the small tuft of hair between her thighs, spreading her labia, slick with desire, open. “You can pretend that I am merely Solus zos Galvus if that is all you can grasp in your incomplete mind, but I am so much more, and I will possess you with all that I am, not just those parts of me you are comfortable with.” 

He dragged his thumb down over her clit, and she arched her back. “So, (Y/N), congratulate yourself. You managed to best me in combat, no mean feat, and bring me to your home, bending my attention to you rather than the Great Rejoining. You have staved off a Calamity and caught an Ascian - not just any Ascian, but Emet-Selch, the Architect - in your snare. Those are not insignificant things.” He stroked her clitoris again, and her hips lifted.

“But to think you can control me? There you reach too far, pet. Content yourself with your prize. You are mine, and I will have none other. I told you, (Y/N), I take very good care of my things.” Hades slid a finger inside her, and she cried out - louder when he added a second finger. He drew lazy circles with his thumb over her clitoris while his fingers stroked her inner walls, making her writhe wantonly beneath him.

“Let me show you how _exquisite_ it can be, (Y/N),” He whispered, his cock pressing against her writhing hip, eager for something he would have to forego tonight. Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, so he nibbled on her neck and shoulder, bringing her closer and closer, only to slow his movements, denying her release. Her hands twisted in his grip, but he held fast, and she threw her head back, chittering softly with the words she didn’t know to ask.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?” He whispered.

“M-more…” she was panting desperately, and her eyes unfocused.

“Beg,” he ordered. “Beg me to let you climax.”

“H-Hade~es,” she drew out the last syllable of his name as he stretched his fingers apart inside her, making her feel more full than she was, and laughed at himself. In his eagerness, he’d pushed her too far, and her mind was lost in a haze of confusion and desire. 

“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve had a woman moaning my true name?” He growled into her ear. “It has, literally, been eons.” His hand at the apex of her thighs began to move with determination, sliding in and out of her and thumbing her clit in time with his own frantic heartbeats. He nestled his face in her hair, enjoying her gasps as one hand held her hands to the bed, and the other pulled as much pleasure from her as he could.

When the muscles of her back and thighs began to tighten, he slowed one last time. “Who do you belong to, pet?”

“Hades,” her voice was barely a whisper, a plea, raw and desperate for release.

He laughed, revelling in his victory. “That’s what I thought.” His thumb moved at a frantic pitch, and a moment later (Y/N)’s legs clamped shut around his hand, her hips rolling up off the bed as she bucked against empty air.

“Zodiark,” he whispered as she settled back against the mattress in the afterglow. “I cannot wait to fuck you.” Hades left little kisses along her hairline, then brought his fingers to his lips, reveling in the taste of her. “Mine…” he murmured, “all mine.”

As she slowly came back to herself, he smirked. “My turn.”

Her face went pale, and she started to move away from him, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry. I said I wasn’t going to ride you tonight, and though it vexes me severely, I will start the way I mean to go on, and keep my word. But there are other ways you can satisfy me.”

“H-How?” (Y/N)’s voice was soft and vulnerable, and he simultaneously wished to exploit her weakness and protect her from all harm. Hades found he enjoyed this dichotomy as much as the others. 

“Have you ever pleasured a man with your hands before?” She blushed, and shook her head, and he nodded. “Good. It’s easier to teach you to do it just the way I like than have to train some other man’s preferences out of you. Also the killing. I would definitely kill him.” 

Hades released her and climbed out of bed, heading for her vanity. He frantically opened various bottles and pots until he found what he was looking for - her rosewater-scented hand cream. He brought it back and put it on the bedside table. “Give me your dominant hand.” 

(Y/N) tentatively held it out, and he scooped a generous glob of her hand cream into it, then climbed into the bed again, lying beside her. “I’m only going to show you how to do this once, so pay close attention. After this I will expect you to please me without my assistance.” He guided her hand to his cock, and wrapped her shaking hand around it, then placed his own hand over hers, working himself through her. “Just like that, (Y/N),” he whispered encouragingly, and once she seemed to gain a little confidence, he removed his hand and pulled her close, letting her see what she could do to him.

Her movements were still clumsy, but he didn’t care. It was (Y/N), and she was here, and he was going to have everything he wanted. Tonight their hands, and someday soon, he would find his release inside her. He tightened his grip on her, and she tightened _hers_ on him, driving him to a frenzy. Hades could only imagine the pleasure he would find there, and he did so, greedily, clutching her in his arms and thrusting into her tight grip.

“(Y/N)...” Hades gasped, as all his petty insecurities began to melt away beneath her fingers. “(Y/N), my dear, I…” He pressed his forehead into her cheek, his third eye against her jaw. “(Y/N), I will not last, I -” His orgasm tore out of him in breathless groans, but her hands did not stop, not until he shuddered at the painful pleasure of being touched after his height.

“That’s more than enough, (Y/N),” he said, still twitching as he pulled her hand from him and laid it on the soft curve of her stomach. “You did well.” He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, and threw one of his legs over both of hers, pulling her close, ignoring the mess he’d left across her thighs, soaking and staining her soft silken stockings. He really did not care.

Hades, called Emet-Selch, The Architect, Ascian, Paragon of the Source, Solus zos Galvus, Emperor of Garlemald fell asleep like that, clutching the Warrior of Light to his chest in the quiet stillness of a desert night, far from all the problems of the day.

* * *

Hades woke to the sound of movement, and opened one eye. His pet was still in his arms, so he did not mind too much, whatever it was. Two maids were standing near the balcony, whispering to each other.

“What should we do?”

“Should we set out breakfast?”

“Should we bring extra tea?”

“Tea sounds lovely,” Hades said firmly from the bed. “And more of those cherry pastries. My lady will also have a bath. As will I, in my room.” (Y/N) stirred as he spoke, and he kissed her temple. “Darling, I’m going to go bathe and change, but I will return for breakfast. Will you be alright?” The maids could sense the dismissal, and left to go about their work.

She blinked a few times, then looked at him. “Y-you stayed?” Her surprise at that worried him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked.

“I thought…” (Y/N) swallowed, and turned her face from him. “I assumed you were toying with me.”

“Why?” Hades stroked her arm gently with his fingers.

“Every time I’d heard anyone talk about intimacy…” She shook her head. “Thancred would always laugh and talk about how he wheedled the girl into it, and snuck away before she woke. The other adventurers were much the same, with silly phrases like ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’, or ‘hit it and quit it’,” (Y/N) smiled ruefully. “I thought you were merely here for physical pleasure, and taking advantage of -” Whatever had been the original end to that sentence, she thought better of it, and said nothing.

To his surprise, Hades felt anger. Not at her, for she had done nothing wrong, but at himself. He had been so eager to toy with her last night he had not asked himself a very important question: _Why_ was a woman in her mid-twenties, as famous and beloved as the _Warrior of Light_, virginal? Men should have been climbing over each other for a _chance_ at her, but she had remained untouched all that time, through two Zodiark-forsaken _wars_.

“You thought I would be gone.” He said quietly. “You thought that I would have scurried off to my rooms like a coward.” She said nothing, so he spoke into the silence. “Let me make my intentions to you _exceedingly_ clear, (Y/N). The only reason I am tolerating this little game with my great-grandson is because you have a point that others could be harmed by your unwillingness to play. While I don’t particularly care about others, you do, and I care about _you_. If he were not so threatening something you care about, or if I cared a little less, I would shoot him upon his arrival, and while away my days, as well as my nights, as your lover.”

She swallowed, and he reached over, a finger on her chin guiding her face back to him. “I am not here for something as tawdry as an orgasm or two. I have hands, if those urges become uncontrollable. I am here because I want you - all of you - and I want what that means. The courtship I spoke of in my letter wasn’t a ploy to lower your guard. I intend to marry you, in the fashion of my people, the people of _Amaurot_. We may present ourselves to the public as the Emperor and Empress of Garlemald, but we will be so much more, (Y/N).” 

Tears began to slip from her eyes, and he put a hand in her hair, pulling her head down to his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear about that before. Rest assured, my pet, that if you fall asleep in my arms, you will only wake to an empty bed in the most dire of emergencies. I’m more likely to wake you and tell you where I’m going than leave without a word.” Hades laughed at himself. “Truth be told, I am just as much yours as you are mine, much as it shames me.” (Y/N) nodded, softly, and Hades cradled her close until the maids returned, and said that her bath was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think you filthy heathens.


	8. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenos arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to work for the week. Gonna binge the LaLaLaLa Productions "Bad Guy" video on youtube while i write when I should be working. ;)
> 
> No promises on chapters before Friday, but I will do my best.

Hades was leaning back in a bath in his room, staring up at the ceiling, when Elidibus appeared. “Finally,” the Emissary huffed, and tossed a drowsing infant towards Emet-Selch. He caught it, consuming the child without a flicker of emotion, and groaned at the power that flooded him. 

“Three left.” Hades raised an eyebrow at Elidibus. “Why are you helping me, again?”

“Zodiark must be reborn, for the balance. Light has held supremacy too long.” The white-robed Ascian sat on the bed. “You stink of her.”

“Good,” Hades grit his teeth. “You should get used to it, I plan to keep her.”

Elidibus laughed. “And how are you going to do that? ‘Oh, by the way, while I’ve been enjoying your wine and your bed, I’ve also been returning to the glory you stole from me, but you don’t mind, do you?’” he scratched his chest, idly. “‘Just give up on everything you’ve spent your life building, and die in the rift the first time I attempt to take you across it.’”

“How are you crossing the rift with mortals?” Hades asked, focusing on the other Ascian, who merely grinned. “G’raha Tia - of course. Once I’m back to myself I will have to have a conversation with him. His skills will be necessary.”

Elidibus shrugged. “We shall see. Zenos is on the move - do you require anything else from me before I get back to it?”

Hades leaned his head against his hand. “A gift, for (Y/N). Something stunning.”

“You’re absolutely cuntstruck,” the Emissary laughed.

“Better that than bored.”

Elidibus bowed in recognition of the fact. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to promise her the world.” 

As he vanished in a swirl of void aether, Hades thought, _Too late for that._

* * *

Together, (Y/N) and Hades spent the day helping to prepare for Zenos’s arrival. His confession that morning, and their intimacy the night before, had broken down some kind of wall, and now he got to see her without the mask of the Warrior of Light. Her staff adored her, and she pitched in just as much with the chores - despite Hades’s many attempted interruptions.

By the time they collapsed together into bed, she was exhausted, and he knew better than to push her to satisfy him, no matter how he yearned for it. As he had said - he took very good care of his things - and she required rest and emotional intimacy before the trial the next day would bring. So instead they lay nude together, holding each other close, and giggling about the events of the day until her eyes began to drift shut on their own.

“Get some sleep, (Y/N),” Hades whispered. “I will be here when you wake up.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Her voice was soft, pained, and innocent.

“I will,” he promised.

“And the day after that?” Her breathing was beginning to slow.

Hades chuckled. “And the day after that.”

(Y/N) smiled, and said nothing else, and he followed her into dreaming not long after.

* * *

Hades woke to find a sheet pulled over him, and (Y/N) seated on the side of the bed, wrapped in a robe of silk and lace, her shoulders shaking. Olivier knelt before her, but neither of them seemed to notice he had woken, and were speaking in hushed whispers.

“You can do this, (Y/N),” the Elezen whispered, holding her hands in his own. Hades felt his mood darken considerably. “You have faced him down before. You have beaten him before. He is not here to kill you. He is not here to kill himself.” Olivier’s fingers stroked her wrists, and a growing fury rose up in the Ascian. “Zenos is only coming to try to convince you to marry him. He’s not going to try to carry you off. And if he does, I won’t allow it.”

“Nor will I,” Hades growled out, slinking from the shadows to pull (Y/N) back into the bed with him. He glared at Olivier a moment longer. “Leave us.”

Olivier’s eyes darted to (Y/N) who nodded. “It’s fine. I’ll see you after breakfast.”

The moment the door clicked shut, Hades was tugging the robe open. “You let him touch you.”

“He’s my friend,” she countered, but didn’t fight as he pushed the silk aside to look at her, and the still-dark bruise on her neck. “Olivier was just trying to comfort me.”

“_I_ will comfort you,” he countered, then shook his head and laid back. “Forgive me. I am…” His voice trailed off.

“Anxious,” (Y/N) finished for him. “Just as I am, though for different reasons. I didn’t want to wake you, and Olivier came in to ask which armor I wanted prepared…” She reached for Hades, tentatively, and he caught her hand and pulled her close. 

“I don’t want other men touching you in our bedchamber.” Hades’s voice was hard. “I don’t want other men seeing you in a state of undress. I don’t want you to go to other men for comfort.” He slipped one hand around her waist, underneath the robe. “I don’t want other men to call you _(Y/N)_.” 

She laughed. “That’s my name, Hades. What else would they call me?”

He kissed her forehead. “At the moment? Lady (L/N), formally, and Lady (Y/N), less formally. In the near future? Your Imperial Majesty, Empress (Y/N) yae Galvus of the Eternal Empire of Garlemald. Informally, Your Majesty, would be acceptable, and Empress (Y/N), if they know you and are speaking of you in the third person but…” He trailed off when he realized she was giggling. “What do you find so amusing?”

“It sounds so stuffy - thirteen words to name me. How will anyone get anything done?”

Hades chuckled. “Well, it’s not forever. Eventually you will select your Ascian titles, like I use Emet-Selch and the Architect, while my real name is -”

“Why would I need Ascian titles?” Her giggling had stopped, and she had gone still beneath his hand.

_Zodiark, I had not planned to have this out this soon,_ Hades thought. (Y/N) undid him too easily, made him drop his guard. He sighed. “Eventually, my dear, your place at my side will include being amongst the Ascians. We have our titles that we use, our masks, physical, aetherial, and metaphorical. I will not be so cruel as to name you ‘The Architect’s Bride’. You are entitled to your own identity amongst them.” Hades offered her a small smile, but the emotion had bled out of her face, returning to the impassive mask she had used at the beginning. “Don’t look at me like that, (Y/N).”

“I will not be an Ascian.” Her voice was measured and calm, and Hades found he hated not being able to read her emotions. “I thought you were _retired_, as you put it.”

He sighed. “Garlemald won’t last forever!” (Y/N) went to pull away, but he locked his arm around her. “No.”

“Let me go, Hades.”

_”No.”_ He moved closer to her. “(Y/N), I have not hidden what I am from you. Not once. Not even on the First. Yes, I plan to retake Garlemald, but how long will that last?” She finally stopped trying to get away, but her face was still empty, so he continued. “It was an empire _built_ to fail. I plan to hobble it along as best I can. Maybe I’ll be lucky. Maybe I’ll be able to fix it. Maybe I will die of old age and it will be a final death. But what if I don’t?”

(Y/N) swallowed, but it was the only reaction he received. “What if I am still immortal? What if I live long enough to lose you, _again_? All I have ever known is Amaurot and my service to Zodiark. Without you, what am I to do? What am I to make of my life? Spending the rest of eternity searching every infant hoping to see your soul staring back at me? And what if I find you? What do I do? Do I influence your upbringing? Then I will have merely groomed you for my bed. Do I stay removed until you are of age? What if something horrible happened in your childhood? Could I forgive myself if you had been harmed in my absence?”

Hades’s set his jaw. “To all these things, I say no. I will find a way to restore your soul to it’s Amaurotine state. I will have you by my side through the ages. But that still brings other problems, other questions.” He slid his hand up her back beneath the robe, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh. “As I told you - It will never be _easy_.”

“...but it will be _glorious_.” She repeated, and finally relented, laying her head on his shoulder. Hades was surprised to feel a strange tension leave him as well, at her acceptance of the unknown. 

_Oh, Zodiark,_ he realized as her fingers twisted in his hair and she kissed him. _I’m in love._

* * *

Hades lurked in the stairwell of the manor, straightening his fur-lined coat in front of a large, gilt-edge mirror. (Y/N) had returned to him his trappings - the medals and accolades he wore that signified who he was. 

The staff had been shocked when she made the announcement, so that they would not be surprised when Zenos arrived and recognized him, but yet again, he saw that her rule through love, rather than fear, won the day. They adored her - they trusted her - so when she told them that the man who had been lurking about the manor and her bedchamber was Emperor _Solus_, returned to them by Hydaelyn, they accepted the half-truth without complaint; though some of the women had become much more protective of their Lady. He didn’t blame them, and in fact, approved of their protectiveness. Knowing they were there made him feel a little bit better, in case Zenos decided to try something stupid.

He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and paused, as the murmur of voices resolved into coherent speech.

“I know we have had our differences in the past, my friend,” Zenos’s low voice drawled as his armor clinked with every step, “but you cannot be left to squander your talents in the backcountry forever.”

“They are my talents, to squander or not, as I see fit,” (Y/N) replied. “I have told you that I am not interested.”

The boy sighed tiredly. “And I have told you before, in this matter, Gaius van Baelsar had the right of it - you cannot be suffered to live, except as an ally. You are too powerful. But I will hunt you again, if need be. You bested me before, but that was in combat, a hunt in which you are quite rightly regarded as the pinnacle of achievement.” He chuckled. “From all reports, you are yet to venture into the field when it comes to marriage beds.”

“What I have or have not done is no business of yours,” (Y/N)’s voice was fading now, as they headed towards the solar for the welcoming luncheon. 

Olivier straightened from his place leaning against the wall beside the mirror. “You know I don’t like you.”

“I know,” Hades said. _No, Solus now. Solus while the sun is up, until this charade is done._

“Even still,” Olivier scowled down the stairs. “If I have to choose between the two of you, for her, I would choose you in a heartbeat.”

Solus raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t see her, when he did it. Right after he slit his own throat in front of her.” Olivier reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small silver case, staring at it for a moment, then thought better of whatever it was, and tucked it away. “The Scions have this saying: ‘For those we have lost, and those we can yet save.’ It’s something of a motto. They try to save everyone, even their enemies, until they are sure there is no hope left, that every other possibility has been exhausted.” The Elezen chuckled darkly. “It’s why you’re here, and not rotting to dust in the rift.” 

Solus frowned. “(Y/N) views what happened with the boy as a personal failure.”

Olivier nodded. “She believed she failed him. She still believes she failed him, to some extent. If he has a way in, it’s that. If she thinks she can save him, she might, to alleviate the undeserved guilt in her own troubled heart.” He looked up at the ceiling. “We’re not friends, you and I. Don’t forget that. But if there’s any way I can help you at least keep _him_ away from her, I’ll do it.”

Olivier and Solus clasped hands, a silent pact to prevent the one thing neither of them wanted, then headed down the stairs.

* * *

The murmurs in the solar grew louder as Solus approached, tossing an apple into the air and catching it in his gloved hands. Olivier had proceeded him, in his capacity as a household servant, and had given the signal that they were dining.

Sure enough, when he shouldered his way into the solar, whistling the anthem of Garlemald, he caught Zenos with a fork full of some Lominsan pasta dish halfway to his mouth. The boy, and the two honor guards stationed behind his chair, froze.

Solus laughed upon seeing him. “Zenos, my boy, I’d heard you were coming.” He took a bite out of the apple, chewed, and swallowed it as he approached the table nonchalantly, a perfectly timed disaster in their dance of high formality.

A wicked smile crossed Zenos’ face, but only malevolence lurked behind his eyes. “Aah, my great-grandfather. What a surprise.” His dry tone indicated it to be anything but. “I had wondered why you took such an interest in my upcoming nuptials so long after your death.” Zenos glanced at (Y/N), who sat perfectly still, staring at the far wall, then looked back to Solus. “Won’t you join us for lunch?”

“Afraid I can’t, so much business to attend to.” Solus leaned over (Y/N), and slid his hand around her neck, tilting her head slightly as he leaned down and kissed her temple, without taking his eyes off Zenos. He saw her hands clench her silverware, knuckles going white as he did so, and wondered what delightful rage he would get for this little stunt later. “My darling, are we still on for dinner this evening? The boy can join us, if he likes.”

The boy in question reached out a hand, and took one of (Y/N)’s hands fork and all. Beneath his fingers, Solus could feel her heart speed erratically, and a moment later both the fork and her knife clattered to the tabletop. She snatched her hand from Zenos and twisted her neck away from Solus, pushed back her chair, and stood.

“Both of you are insufferable,” she growled. “I will see you both for supper. Try not to kill each other in the interim.” With that, she stormed out of the room on the soft swish of silk. Solus watched her leave, unperturbed, and took another bite of his apple.

“You should really quit before you embarrass yourself, old man,” Zenos said from his seat, and took a sip of white wine. “At your age you should be enjoying your… retirement, as it were. Not chasing the skirts of your future empress.”

“Why wouldn’t I chase her skirts?” Solus asked, letting his head loll back to look at his competition. “As you said, she’s _my_ empress. I will do with her what I like, be it in the bedroom, the bath, the halls of the court, or the comfort of _my_ throne.”

Zenos reached for the katana sheathed at his side, but Solus held up a hand. “Please, don’t embarrass _your_self. (Y/N) asked that we abstain from violence.”

“(Y/N) already?” Zenos snorted. “You barely know her.”

“I know her better than you think.” He chuckled, and let the boy draw what conclusions he would. “But as I said, I am busy. Olivier,” he turned to the Elezen who bowed. “Won’t you show my great-grandson to his rooms? I’m sure he’s tired after his journey.”

Solus headed towards the door, and Zenos stood. “I am not dismissed so easily.”

“If I had my way, you would have been,” was Solus’s only reply as he stalked out the door.

* * *

Hades found (Y/N) a few minutes later, a linkpearl pressed into her ear in the library. He quietly shut the door, and locked it behind him. He stood watching her in silence, content to let her finish her conversation.

“Yes, I know, Tataru.” Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back in frustration. “I have it handled.”

“Oh for the love of…”

“_No_, do not send Estinien. He’ll destroy half my bloody -”

“How many people are you hoping to get killed?”

“I don’t need more guards, Tataru! I’m the Twelve-forsaken Warrior of Light!”

“I don’t care what Alphinaud would say.”

He edged his way into her line of sight, and he smiled inwardly to see the rigid lines of the (R/N)’s body relax when their eyes met.

“Tataru, I have to go.”

“A what? Twelve, Tataru, are you _crying?_”

“Fine. Yes. Design it. I don’t mind. Just don’t sew anything without my approval.”

“Yes, I know. I will be careful.”

“All right. Until then.” (Y/N) pulled the linkpearl from her ear and tucked it into a hidden pocket of her gown, turning to him. “No wounds? He’s learned a little self-control at least.”

Hades said nothing, just crossed to her, sliding one arm about her waist, the other gripping the mantle of the fireplace while he pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him, and slid her hands beneath his coat and vest to clutch at his shirt. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and pulled her against him harder. 

When she gasped, he released her mouth, and took his hand from mantle to bring it to his mouth, tugging off his glove with his teeth. Her cheeks flushed, and he felt the slight tremble in her knees. “(Y/N), he’s been here an hour and already he tries my patience.” Hades slid his now bare hand to her neck, unbuttoning the high collar that hid the way he’d marked her. As soon as his fingers touched her neck, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I will come to your rooms after supper.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

“You covered your neck,” he said. He had known she would, but he didn’t have to like it. “I need some way to remind myself that you’re mine, whatever little theater we enact during the day.” He tugged the front of her gown down far enough that he could see the bruise, and leaned closer, stroking it with his tongue, her neck still caught in his un-gloved hand. “Give me _something_, before I’m forced to ravish you on the floor the next time he tries to touch you.”

His chest was suddenly cold as she pulled her hands away, and he felt them move between their bodies. A moment later, she held up a small silver key. “Here.”

“What’s this?” he plucked it from her grasp and sat on the empty armchair, pulling her with him into his lap.

“The key to my bedroom. We had the locks changed back to keep Zenos out.”

“Changed back?” Hades pondered over the words, then laughed. “You mean to tell me those exceedingly simple locks were intentional?”

The sound of movement in the hallway made them both freeze, and (Y/N) stood, buttoning the pearls at her neck back into perfection. She approached the door, unlocking it silently, then turned back to him. “You weren’t the only one watching and scheming on the First.” A flicker of something dark and seductive passed through her eyes, and she smiled wickedly, before opening the door, leaving him alone.

Hades stood, tucking the key into the inner pocket of his vest, then snatched his glove off the floor, pulling it back on as he leaned against a bookcase. “Oh, (Y/N),” he said, tilting his head back until it came up against a wall of embossed leather spines. “You are exquisite.”


	9. What the Lady Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenos and Solus begin vying for (Y/N)'s hand in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG OOF fam. Who works a real job? Certainly not me. I can't believe they're paying me to write.

Solus and Zenos stood on either side of (Y/N), gritting their teeth at each other, already about to come to blows, and they hadn’t even entered the dining room yet. That was the problem, of course - who took precedence to escort her in, and hold her arm for all of thirty seconds, would also determine who could claim the first dance. So here they stood, blocking the entrance, though it made them both look the fool. 

(Y/N) had backed up a few feet, in preparation for the coming fight, but suddenly Olivier was beside her. With the experience of an old friend, he looped her arm in his, and together they walked passed the argumentative emperors into the dining room.

By the time they had scrambled after her and entered, Olivier had already deposited her in a seat at the head of the table. Smirking, Zenos moved past, and took the place for the guest of honor at her right-hand side. 

Solus waited three heartbeats, then took the place at the other end of the table, watching as Zenos’s smirk curdled on his face, reduced to a mere guest, while Solus’s seat choice implied that this was his home as well - that he and (Y/N) lived together, and together, were welcoming Zenos for a short visit.

The usual theater of dinner proceeded apace - the wine was brought out, and (Y/N) tasted it, but Solus was comforted that she did not play her little game from their first dinner together, and by the weight of the key pressed against his chest. When the appetizer was set before him, however, Solus paused, and looked up to find (Y/N) staring him down, that same wicked grin that had come with a stab to her lip, and licking away a spot of blood.

_Oysters. That minx is serving oysters._ he thought.

Zenos didn’t even notice, regaling her with a tale of victory in battle, as if she cared. She gave the boy a pretty smile, and lifted an oyster to her lips, but her gaze flickered back to Solus for a moment as she swallowed.

“- so of course I slew him like a dog,” Zenos laughed.

“Ugh, enough.” Solus fixed his great-grandson with an irritated look. “You’re boring me. Worse, you’re boring (Y/N). You won’t let the lady get a word in edgewise, and I know Varis raised you better than that.”

Zenos made a slight strangled sound, but (Y/N) laughed, saving him from having to make a response. “It’s all right. I’m sure Zenos, meant no harm.” She placed her hand gently on his, and Solus considered crushing the wine glass in his hand.

The boy at least acted mollified. “Forgive me, (Y/N). Where have your conquests taken you?”

For a moment, Solus could almost hear her say, “Hades’s bed,” and he nearly snorted the wine, but thankfully, when she actually spoke, she demurred. “I haven’t done much conquering, I fear. I went on a pilgrimage.”

“A pilgrimage?” Solus asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered if this was a prevarication of some type. Zenos tilted his head to (Y/N) as well, offering her the chance to speak, while the servants cleared away the oysters and replaced them with small bowls of chicken consommé that carried the scent of ginger as well.

Solus savored the spice of it as (Y/N) began her tale, speaking in vague allusions to her time on the first, giving just enough information to satisfy the boy without revealing the full truth of what had happened on the First. 

Olivier was clearing the soup while another servant placed a pair of deviled eggs in front of him, when she said, “And then, in the depths of the sea, I came upon an ancient city.”

He froze, suddenly disarmed, and realized while he had told her about Amaurot, again and again, he had never asked her what she thought of it - never considered what she might have found in that reflection he had crafted, so lovingly, for her.

“It was beautiful,” (Y/N) said, lifting an egg to her lips and taking a bite. After she swallowed, she continued, “It was haunted, both literally and figuratively. Shades of its ancient residents walked the streets, unaware their end had come and gone, but the entire metropolis instilled in me a homesickness for a home I didn’t know.”

Solus took his own bite of egg, surprised to taste the heat of spicy peppers within the creamy yolk. Another dichotomy - the heat and spice of passion in his mouth while (Y/N) spoke of a deep sadness she did not know she carried.

Zenos leaned close, and placed his hand on hers again. “I would go back there with you, if you’d like.” 

Rage was on Solus in an instant, and he rushed Zenos, his hands reaching for his great-grandson’s neck, only to find (Y/N) suddenly between them, her slim arms holding him back with the unnatural strength of the Warrior of Light. “Amaurot is not for _you_,” he said to the boy, glaring at him over her shoulder. “_Never_ for you.”

“Hush,” (Y/N) said, her voice soft. “It’s all right. Ha-” She coughed softly. “Solus, my friend, please. Sit down.” He glared sullenly at her, but obeyed, and she returned to her seat while Zenos raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them.

“Amaurot is not the kind of place one can go back to easily,” she explained. “It is an enchanted city, that only appears when it is willed to by ancient, arcane forces. It instills a religious-like devotion in those who visit. Solus has been there, as well, hence his anger. He misses it terribly.”

Zenos frowned. “Is that where you found him? Or is that where _he_ found _you_?”

“Yes, and no. We had met before, but that is where we became friends.”

Solus laughed, darkly. It was a truth of its own, in the strangest way.

A servant came through, and cleared the plates, and Olivier approached, bowing politely to (Y/N). “My lady, may I have this dance?” It was his right, of course, having escorted her to dinner. 

(Y/N)’s smile lit the room, and put her hand in his, letting the Elezen pull her out of her seat and onto the parquet floor as the Orchestrion sprang to life. He was an excellent dancer, but having seen them interact these last few days, Solus knew there was no attraction between them, just a deep friendship bulwarked by their years together.

When he glanced back, Solus found Zenos staring at him. “Forgive my earlier outburst,” he said, in hushed tones. “You did not mean to be sacrilegious, and I was too overwrought that she even mentioned it to you to check my anger.”

Zenos shrugged. “And I’d have killed you yesterday, after she left, for your implications that she might feel something for you. We’re even.” He looked at Olivier. “Is he her lover?”

“No,” Solus said, taking a sip of his wine. “From what I am told he prefers the company of men.”

A flicker of _something_ passed through Zenos’s eyes. “Then what is he to her?”

“An extremely loyal servant. Loyal to the point of violence. Don’t bother trying to bribe him, it won’t work.”

Zenos laughed. “I assume you have tried and failed, then?”

“I never bothered to try to bribe him in the first place. I have my eye on a higher prize.” Solus chuckled, and a moment later, Zenos joined him.

“Garlemald will never be the same after she is made its Empress,” the boy said. 

“(Y/N) irrevocably changes everything she touches,” Solus agreed, as the song came to a close. “Go dance with her,” he told the boy, staring into his wine glass. “See if you can stand to touch her without the violence for which you are so well known.”

Zenos raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, bowing politely to Olivier and taking her hand, his movements stiff as ever. He’d never been good at dancing.

Solus continued to stare into his wine glass, and thought about all the ways (Y/N) was changing him, and whether or not he approved.

* * *

Solus was still brooding, when the thin pasta tossed with butter and parmesan and paper-thin slices of truffle was placed before him. He could tell (Y/N) was hurt by his refusal to dance with her, but at the moment, all considered, he did not believe he could trust himself to touch her. 

He was in love. Foolishly - _painfully_ \- in love with the (R/N), and it had hobbled him. He was better than this. _Smarter_ than this. He had intended to have her, yet remain apart from her. Indulge in her vulnerability, but offer none himself. And yet she had managed, through soft smiles and barely-locked doors, to worm her way into his heart. She had found more than her salvation in Amaurot, it seemed.

Solus did not taste the pasta, nor the escargot, nor the delicately cut slices of pork loin seared in olive oil and crushed garlic. He did not hear the conversation, the laughter, nor whatever Zenos was saying to try and win her. It didn’t matter. He had been wrong, that first night - the first dinner. Forget being sundered, forget the people of the Source wanting him dead or away from her for a myriad of reasons. He had been _wrong_ \- loving her was the most dangerous game, with the most lasting consequences.

Olivier’s hand touched his shoulder as he placed a crystal dish of cherry sorbet before him, and Solus looked up in mild confusion. The Elezen was staring hard at (Y/N), and so he looked as well. Zenos had her hand to his face, pressing his lips against the inside of her wrist, and she was in tears.

“I should not have done that, (Y/N), I’m sorry.” His words were honeyed, and he tilted his head so his long blonde hair shielded her wrist from Solus’s view. The Ascian sought her eyes, and clenched his jaw. Her gaze was an open wound, heart broken and terrible, and her skin had gone deathly pale. “I spent my whole life improving myself, and to be so thoroughly bested by one I erroneously considered beneath me was -”

“I believe it is my turn to dance,” Solus said, drawing the words like a blade across the table. He stood, and approached, bowing formally, one hand extended to her. “My lady?”

(Y/N) took his hand and rose, obediently, casting an apologetic smile to Zenos before Solus pulled her towards him, and music filled the room again. “Are you all right?” he whispered, his throat raw. 

“Just old hurts,” she replied. “I should have done more, tried to reach him…”

_”No.”_ Solus’s voice was firm. “You are not responsible for his actions or happiness.”

“If only I believed that,” she said, her voice delicate, and she glanced back at Zenos, who was engrossed in some kind of conversation with Olivier.

Taking advantage of the boy’s distraction, Solus pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. “I need you tonight,” he whispered. “I…” _Zodiark, it hurts to think about._ “I need you.”

Her face lightened, a little and she nodded. “You have your key,” she whispered, and he smiled, his heart a little lighter. At least he could not deny his affections were returned, with that talisman and invitation hidden away beneath his coat.

* * *

Secure in the knowledge he would spend the night with her, Solus focused more upon the conversations Zenos was attempting to start, directing them away from his suicide whenever necessary. The boy had seen that it was effective, and now pursued it as fervently as anything else.

The cat and mouse, of his morose protestations and Solus’s answering diversions continued through the course of coffee-crusted steak with small potatoes baked, smashed, and drizzled with a sauce of butter, garlic and chives.

When Olivier returned, replacing their plates with yet another course, this a bit of roast chicken that had been marinated in a dark Doman sauce blended with honey, leaving the skin crisp and flavorful, (Y/N) went on the offensive.

“Well, I think that’s enough foreplay, gentlemen,” she said, taking up her glass of wine. “We all know why both of you are here: both of you have made overtures for my hand. As you are both imperial narcissists, I assume your opening offers would be the bare minimum of a crown of my own. While it’s a good start, it is not enough. What more can you offer?”

_The minx has made it a bloody auction,_ Solus thought indignantly.

“I will cease all military involvement in Eorzea so long as you are at my side,” Zenos said without hesitation. 

“You’re only saying that because you’ve had to redirect forces to Ala Mhigo and Doma,” Solus argued, then turned to (Y/N), whose playful smile brought him some relief. _She’s toying with us both, but letting me know this is just a game._ He chuckled. _Might as well play._ “I will conquer Eorzea and give it to you as a gift upon the birth of our first child.”

They continued like this, back and forth, offering more and more outrageous military conquests and capitulations while they ate, a war of the mind for the heart of the (R/N) before them, who merely smirked at their responses. Green beans sauteed with slivered almonds, an arugula salad with strawberries, and thin sliced venison served chilled on blocks of rock salt all passed their lips as the game wore on, but she never revealed if their offers pleased her, merely letting them outbid each other in a sick game of chicken that could change the course of history.

The next course came, crepes stuffed with apples stewed in vanilla bourbon with a caramel drizzle, when Zenos suddenly changed tactics. “I allow worship the Twelve for you.”

“I would make worship of the Twelve the state religion of Garlemald,” Solus replied, offhandedly, taking a bite of the crepes and grinning at (Y/N).

“_I_ would worship the Twelve for you,” Zenos countered, and smirked smugly.

Solus froze, as a thought came unbidden. He could win it all in one master stroke, but it might kill him. _Traitor, Traitor, Traitor_, his mind whispered. _How far will you go, Hades?_ He lifted a hand to his face, and wasn’t surprised when his glove came away stained with the blood now leaking from his nose. Being tempered was quite a treat.

“Solus?” (Y/N)’s voice was playful, but he heard the edge of concern.

He looked up at her, smirking playfully. He couldn’t vocalize his thought. The tempering prevented it, even as he fought against it. If he could only get the words out, the game would be done. It was checkmate, for everything.

Instead, he fainted.

* * *

Hades awoke to Elidibus sitting beside his bed, eating the rest of his dinner. “You know,” the white-robed Ascian said, taking a bite, “I distinctly remember telling you not to promise her the world.” He chuckled and swallowed. “Never thought you’d try to go further.”

“What?” Hades asked, rubbing his head. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“At the moment? Asleep in her bed. She was here, but Olivier carried her out when she passed out sprawled over you.” Elidibus grinned. “If you do keep her, keep her chef, too, this is exquisite.”

“Shouldn’t you be killing me?” Hades said, pulling himself up.

“For having thoughts of betraying Zodiark? Why bother? It’s been eons. Who hasn’t?” He pulled out another infant, and dumped it on Hades’s lap. “You’ll need your strength.”

“Why?” Hades asked. 

“Do you think Zenos didn’t notice the way you brooded over (Y/N)? He’s no Ascian, but he _is_ your great-grandson. He knows you’re serious about her, and is probably planning a counter-attack as we speak.” Elidibus gestured to the babe, which was beginning to wake. “Go on.”

With a pained sigh, Hades absorbed the child. “Two more.” 

“The next shouldn’t be much longer. I know where the child is, and was on my way when you decided to be overly dramatic.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Hades teased.

“Or the day after. Given I know where my target is, if I’m interrupted anyway, I’ll look into the last. Maybe we can get this out of the way quickly.”

“Take your time.” Hades knew the truth. Elidibus would expect him to leave when his power was restored, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. He hadn’t determined how to broach the subject of “by the way I have all my Ascian abilities back” with (Y/N) yet. “I’m going to go to her.”

Elidibus waved, a piece of toast smeared with some type of pungent cheese in his hand. “Have fun.”

In the hall, Hades passed Olivier.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The Elezen did not seemed enthused. 

“For now,” Hades admitted. “I am about to go back to bed.” He headed for the stairs.

“Isn’t your room _that_ way?” Olivier pointed toward his door.

“My room, mayhaps, but not my bed.” He looked up the stairs toward where he knew (Y/N) could be found, and smiled.

* * *

(Y/N) woke as Hades was unlacing her bodice, trying to undress her gently. She rubbed her face with the heel of her hand. “Hades, are you all right?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep. “You should be resting.”

“I plan to,” he said, and he could hear the exhaustion in his own voice. “But I need to feel your skin so I can rest _well_.”

She nodded and yawned, sitting up to help him strip her down to her thigh highs. Reflexively, (Y/N) reached for the top of them, to push them down, and he clapped a hand over his eyes. Thighs had always been his weakness. His undoing. This was just cruelty on top of everything else. 

“Hades,” she said, her voice a delicate purr, and he spread apart his fingers and opened one eye to see her push the lace tops down slowly, watching him for his reaction. 

He groaned. “I am too tired to punish you for that indecency right now, (Y/N). Consider yourself warned. When I wake up, you are done for.”

“Aren’t I already?” she countered with a laugh, moving to the other thigh. “You must have the patience of a saint, with how many aphrodisiacs were in that dinner.”

“You’re not even trying to be subtle,” Hades accused.

“Why bother?” (Y/N) asked, and crawled towards him, depositing herself unceremoniously in his arms. “I’ve made my peace with you being my first.”

“Your _only_,” he growled in exhausted irritation. “You are mine, (Y/N).” Hades pulled her close for a kiss, then wriggled out of his own clothes, leaving them in a pile beside the bed. He just didn’t care anymore. (Y/N) was his, and he loved her, and one day, he’d figure out how to say it, and what they would do about it.

* * *

Olivier leaned against the outer wall of the manor, and pulled the small silver case from his suit pocket. He opened it, and removed a single slim cigarette, lighting it with a spark of magic. He inhaled deeply, and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out in a stream. 

Beside him, Zenos zos Galvus chuckled. “That’s a filthy habit.”

Olivier smirked, but didn’t look at him. “It’s not the only filthy thing I do.”


	10. Lead and Gold (EX)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades makes his confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter as this one is explicit, and i want those who aren't comfortable with smut to be able to skip over it.

The sound of summer cicadas woke Hades, and he opened his eyes to see broad shafts of sunlight coming in through the balcony doors, catching the delicate fibers of (Y/N)’s sheer bed curtains. She was on her back, beside him, still asleep, one arm reaching up beneath the pillows, their fingers loosely twisted together. He shifted, slightly, rolling onto his side, and let his head slide down the curve of the pillow to hers, burying his face in her hair and closing his eyes again.

_Peace,_ he laughed ruefully to himself. It had been so long since he’d known it, and now here it was again, the last place he’d expected to find it - in Eorzea, in the bed of the woman who had killed him, then refused to let him die. She was so beautiful when she slept, no worries or cares, just peace.

“I wish it could stay like this,” Hades whispered to his sleeping (Y/N). “I-,” he wanted to tell her of his love, but his throat seized, and he closed his eyes. “I wish I was not such a coward.” 

He let himself doze a while longer, content to be beside her, and soon enough she began to stir, her pulse and breath quickening just slightly, and Hades opened his eyes just in time to watch hers flutter open and glance about, before settling on him. 

“How are you feeling?” (Y/N) asked, moving her fingers under the pillow to clutch his hand more tightly. “I was so scared for you.”

“I’m all right,” Hades chuckled, and stroked her wrist with his thumb.

“What happened?” The concern had not yet left her voice.

He shook his head. “Just a common problem to all Ascians, nothing to fret over.” Her brow remained furrowed. “It passed. I’m all right,” he repeated.

(Y/N) sighed and rolled onto her side to face him, pressing herself against his chest. “Don’t scare me like that.” 

“I’ll do as I like,” Hades said playfully, and wrapped his free arm around her, placing his hand between her shoulder blades and pulling her close for a kiss. When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Did you sleep all right?”

She nodded. “You?”

“Much better, once I was by your side again.” _Zodiark,_ he thought, mocking himself, _I sound like a poorly written character from a melodrama._ Still, (Y/N) smiled at his words, so he didn’t mind overmuch.

“Hades,” she whispered, and something in her voice caught on his heart, and he turned all his attention to her. “I know you can be rough,” she swallowed nervously. “But just this once, could you be gentle? Please?”

He hated himself in that moment. All the history between them, all the ways he’d lashed out at her, they were evident in every wrinkle in her brow, in the soft downturn of her lips, in the anxiety in her eyes. Yet here she was, still willing to have him, still reaching for him, when by all rights she should have left him to die in Amaurot. 

Hades pulled her closer, bringing his arm out from beneath the pillow to hug her to his chest, and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. 

He felt (Y/N)’s quiet laugh shake her body slightly, and she kissed his cheek, just beside his ear. “It’s not about deserving. I am the Warrior of Light. I get to be selfish sometimes, no matter what the other Scions say. So let me be selfish. I want to have you all for myself, even if they think it’s a terrible idea.”

Tears pricked at his eyes, and so he closed them, and kissed the curve of her neck on the quickly fading bruise he’d left just days ago. “Why, out of all the options before you, would you want _me_?”

“You have nothing to gain from loving me,” she whispered, “and everything to lose. I know you don’t love me yet, you might never, but I never have to doubt that what little affection you can spare me is sincerely given.”

“You’re wrong,” Hades growled against her skin. “How can you be so blind, so foolish?” He tightened his grip on her. “You are the greatest prize on this wretched, sundered rock. ‘I don’t love you yet’? Hardly.” It seemed anger would do where his courage would not, and he kissed her, catching the ends of her hair and twisting them in his fingers behind her back. “I loved you the first moment I saw you in Amaurot. I have waited eternities for you to be free to love me. I loved you the first time I saw you on the First, as well, even though I mistakenly believed you to be taken. I have lived for you, laughed for you, killed for you, a thousand times over. You think the blood my brethren and I have shed for the sake of the Rejoining is unforgivable? That, at least, was done with a goal a bit less selfish than my obliteration of whole villages just so I could feel _something_ other than despair at the idea that you might never be mine.” The words were pouring out of him like rain, but at this point, he couldn’t stop them, nor did he intend to try. “I love you, (Y/N), to the point of obsession. Distraction.” 

He pushed her onto her back, but kept his eyes shut. He couldn’t look at her while he said this. “That nosebleed last night? It wasn’t random. It wasn’t unexpected. I was considering finding a way to leave Zodiark’s service, for you.” Hades hissed as sharp pain split his skull. He could talk about it in the abstract, but not consider it. “I-I…” The pain was getting worse, but he wanted to try. He _needed_ to try, for her - for whatever future they might have together. 

“Hades,” she whispered, “It’s all right. Don’t push yourself.” Her voice was calm, but warm, and he relaxed as her fingers found their way into his hair, and he felt the inside of one of her thighs rub his side. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. It will never be easy,” (Y/N) whispered.

“But it will be glorious,” he replied, and kissed her soundly, letting his weight settle between her legs without entering her. “I suppose I can indulge in the novelty of not having constant plans and schemes when it comes to one part of my life.” He opened his eyes and gave her a warm smile. “Shall we take it one day at a time, my dear?”

(Y/N) nodded. “One day at a time, then.” She shifted her hips, slightly, and Hades groaned when he felt how wet she was with the tip of his cock.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, and cradled her head in his hand, brushing her temple with his thumb. “If you’re not ready, we can wait. I…” Hades leaned closer, brushing the tip of his nose along her cheekbone in intimacy. “I don’t want you to regret me.”

“Hades,” _Zodiark,_ he thought, _I will never get tired of hearing my name from her lips._ “The only thing I regret is that I took so long to _be_ ready.” She lifted her hips to him again, and he thrust into her, past the gentle, barely-noticeable tug of her hymen, and caught her mouth with his to stifle her cry. 

He thrust into her a few times, gently, until she began to respond to him in ardor, her fingers ghosting over his back, her ankles locking together behind his hips, pulling him in deeper of her own accord. “Zodiark,” he groaned into her ear, “You were worth the wait.” 

She laughed softly, her cheeks flushed, and matched her movements to his own, pulling him in deeper with soft sighs and sweet kisses. Hades held out as long as he could, but his body was screaming for (Y/N), yearning to tear her apart, to consume her body and soul, so she could never be free of him. But she had asked for gentle, and he would give her anything at this moment. Anything at all.

Beneath him, (Y/N) was writhing, and he could tell, though she was enjoying having him inside her, she would need more than just his cock to reach her climax. “Let me taste you,” he whispered, and slid himself out of her, deliciously pleased to hear her whimper his name as he moved down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses to her labia, which he pushed open with the tip of his nose and tilted his head, moving his mouth to her clitoris. 

She gasped, sharply, into the soft quiet of her bed when he pressed his tongue, full and flat, against her, and stroked upward in a deliberate motion. Then he wrapped his arms around her thighs, planting greedy kisses along them before focusing himself completely on her clit. Her fingers found his hair again, and pulled sharply on it, while she stuttered “H-H-Had-dessss,” repeatedly. He gave her no reprieve, sucking, nibbling, and licking the tiny node between her _delicious_ thighs without cease, even as she shrieked and writhed from the intensity. He would give himself the delight of her release before finding his own. 

Sure enough, after a few minutes of his unyielding onslaught, (Y/N)’s entire body went taut, and he took a moment to lick up everything from her until the only thing he tasted between her labia was his own saliva. When he pulled away, her hands had already found his shoulders, scratching and tugging at him while she murmured, “Please, please,” over and over again. 

Hades moved back over her and pushed his way back inside, delighted to find her deliciously wet. “Please,” she whimpered beneath him, “Please don’t stop.”

He kissed her cheek. “There’s that begging I was looking for.” Then started again, this time in more earnest, pushing himself in, harder and deeper, until he found his release and filled her, her name his own chant of religious devotion. He stayed inside her as long as he could, until his body betrayed him and he was too soft to remain.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, pulling her against his chest as he rolled onto his side. “My (Y/N).”

“As long as you’ll have me,” she murmured, and together, they drifted back to sleep.

* * *

One floor below, Olivier lay stretched out in his bed, smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling, while Zenos slept like a baby beside him, still tied to the bed. He wouldn’t be bothering anyone until he was freed tomorrow morning, and Olivier was there to make the Crown Prince’s distraction seem to be an indulgence of his own design.

The Elezen took another long drag, then whispered into the quiet stillness of the manor, “You owe me, Elidibus.”

The Ascian, leaning against a bedpost, nodded. “I really do. Your help has been absolutely invaluable to this plan.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“Of course,” Elidibus replied. “The balance distinguishes not between lead and gold.”


	11. Ward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and (Y/N) spend time together, and receive an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transitional Chapter! Setting up for the next part of this story, so things may be a little awkward. I hope you like it regardless.

Hades woke again as maids were moving quietly through the room, setting out a small luncheon for two on the balcony. He glanced to make sure (Y/N) was covered, then sat up. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon, Your Majesty,” one of the maids said, bobbing respectfully. “Olivier said you and her Ladyship were taking the day off. We can have the luncheon moved elsewhere, if you please.”

Shaking his head, Hades said, “No, thank you. The balcony is perfect. What of Zenos?”

The two maids glanced at each other and smirked. “Olivier took care of him,” one said.

“And he’s taking care of Olivier, I’m sure,” the other replied, and they both giggled.

_Aah._ Hades thought. _I owe the man more than I realized._ He drew his knees up to his chest in the bed, leaning his crossed arms on them as he thought. _Have to give him a title or something once I’ve married her. Mayhap make him a Legatus. He has the head for strategy._

Once the maids had departed, Hades slid out of the bed and wandered over to the chessboard, reviewing the moves both he and (Y/N) had made over the last few days - her pawn, from f2 to f3, his from b7 to b5; her knight from g1 to e2, his from b8 to d7. Sometime in the night, (Y/N) had moved her bishop from b3 to h6. With a smirk, he took the bishop with his own that waited at g7.

A shiver went down his spine as a soft hand touched the center of his back, tracing the lines of his tattoo. “(Y/N),” he said, still looking at the board. He saw her in the edges of his vision, a wisp of her hair in the sunlight, and her delicate hand, reaching forward towards the board. He waited, eager to see how she would recover from the loss. Only to scowl as she took her queen from d2, and slid it across the board, taking the bishop he’d just moved a moment before.

“You’re slipping, love,” she said, a playful laugh behind her words. “Falling for the obvious trap.”

He moved his bishop from c8 to b7. “Are you implying that you’re going to capture _me_, (Y/N)?”

She moved a pawn from a2 to a3. “Haven’t I?”

Hades begrudgingly moved a pawn from e7 to e5. “You are rather deep in my territory, my dear.” He gestured to her queen. 

(Y/N) smiled winsomely, and castled her king and her rook. “You’re so focused on the queen, you don’t see the movements behind the scenes.”

He scowled and moved his own queen from her starting position to just before his king at e7. “There’s more than one queen in chess.”

“Just as there is more than one king,” she murmured, moving her king from c1 to b1.

He moved a pawn from a7 to a6. “You are not permitted to have any monarch but me.” He wondered when they had stopped talking about chess, and started talking about their relationship.

She moved her knight from e2 to c1. “Who says I will have any monarch at all, when this is through?”

Hades castled his own king and rook. “You think to tear down Garlemald?”

She moved the same knight as before, from c1 to b3, and he moved his pawn from e5 to d4, capturing one of her pawns, only to have her rook sail up the center of the board from d1 to d4, taking the pawn. “I am the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn’s Chosen. If I wish it, it will be so.”

Moving his pawn from c6 to c5, threatening her rook, and he laughed, darkly. “Isn’t that the damned truth.”

She moved the rook smoothly back down the board, to d1 again. 

“I want you by my side when I retake my throne,” he took his knight at d7 to b6. While she had been making sudden, dramatic moves, he’d slowly been advancing his whole force toward her.

(Y/N) smirked, and moved a pawn from g2 to g3. “We’ll see.”

He shifted his king to the side, from c8 to b8. “No. You will be my wife, or I will destroy Eorzea.”

“You know that would be a long and bloody war of attrition,” her delicate fingers caught up her knight at b3 and moved him to a5, threatening his bishop, which he moved immediately from b7 to a8. 

“You think I care how much blood is shed?” He watched as her bishop moved from f1 to h3, then moved his pawn from d6 to d5. She said nothing, just moved her queen from h6 back to f4, and he caught her wrist in his hand. “I will have you, or destroy it all, (Y/N).”

“You’ve already had me.”

“You know what I mean.” He moved his king from b8 to a7. “Give up Hydaelyn. Give up Eorzea. Come with me to Garlemald, and I will set you above all others. An empress - a goddess - that only I can touch.” He released her wrist, and she moved her rook from h1 to e1.

“You’ll do that anyway, Hades. Even if this morning is the only time you have me, for all eternity.”

His mouth went dry, and he moved the pawn from d5 to d4. “You wouldn’t deny me, would you?”

She chuckled, and said nothing, moving her knight from c3 to d5. Growling, he moved his own knight from b6 to d5, and threw the captured knight to the ground. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice hard. “You are not permitted to deny me.”

“I’ll do what I like,” the (R/N) replied, and took her pawn from e4, capturing his knight at d5, and setting it in the little pile of his captured pieces she was slowly building. As soon as her hand lifted, he put an arm around her waist and dragged her back to the bed. 

“Are you going to deny me?” he whispered as he pushed his knee between her legs, opening them.

(Y/N) laughed, and reached for him. “Not today.”

* * *

“Marry me,” Hades said, snatching up (Y/N)’s hand and pulling it to his lips as they sat together on her balcony, eating their lunch much later than originally planned.

“I’ll consider it,” she said softly.

“No,” he grumbled. It was the fourth time he’d asked her today, and she still gave the same reply. “It’s not a question, it is a command.”

“Only Hydaelyn may command me,” she replied smoothly.

Hades scoffed. “And what will you do when I have you at my mercy?”

She smiled. “I’ll do what I like.”

“I’m not joking, (Y/N),” he said, and something in his tone must have caught her attention, because she turned to face him fully. “For now you have the luxury of refusal, but one day you will not. You will be mine. It will be much easier for both of us if you come willingly.”

“Maybe I like making your life difficult.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” he grumbled. “(Y/N), I be-” He was cut off by movement in the grounds below. _Olivier._ The Elezen’s long strides were headed for the front gates. 

“What is it?” (Y/N) called, leaning over the balustrade.

“Company,” he replied, not looking up.

“Damn,” she hissed, and went back inside. Hades followed her, watching silently as she removed her light silk robe and began digging through her armoire. A chemise, thigh highs, corset, petticoats, and gown soon found themselves piled on her unmade bed. “Can you call one of my maids, Hades? I need help with the -” 

“I’ll help you,” he said, picking up on her anxiety. “If only to have a few more moments alone.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Have you ever laced a corset before?”

“Yes,” he said indignantly. “I have been married, you know.”

Her movements stilled for a heartbeat, and though she did not look at him, he saw her hand on the door of her armoire tighten until her knuckles were white. _Zodiark,_ Hades laughed internally. _She’s jealous._

“Fine.” Her voice was light, but underneath he could hear the sharpness, and it delighted him.

She sat at her vanity and brushed her hair, pinning it in place atop her head in an elegant, relaxed style, while constantly darting glances at him in the mirror. “I thought you were going to help me.” 

“How, specifically, do you want me to help?” Hades asked, leaning against one of her bedposts.

“Thigh highs,” she replied, and turned away from the mirror to face him.

His breath caught in his throat. “You’re cruel, (Y/N). You know what your thighs do to me.”

“And you’re cruel, as well,” she replied tartly. “Implying you ever loved anyone other than me.”

Shaking his head, he picked up the thigh highs, and knelt before her. There was something so much more intimate about this, dressing her again, hiding her beauty away from the eyes of the world, something precious to him that must be protected at all costs. As his fingers brushed her skin, he imagined being the only one allowed to look at her, and held it close to his heart, just as he wanted to be the only one to touch her, the only one to say her name.

“I’m going to make you pay for this later,” he whispered as his fingers tied the garters around her thighs to keep them in place. “You know what your body does to me.”

“You’re the one who wanted to help rather than summoning a maid,” she countered, and tugged the soft chemise down over her head, her silhouette still visible through it in the sunlight. Then she handed him her corset, and leaned on her bedpost. “Go ahead.”

Lacing up her corset was just as maddening as the thigh highs had been. (Y/N) made these tiny little gasps, unknowingly, every time he tightened the laces, and as soon as it was done he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Tell your guest to go away. I want to have you again.”

She shook her head. “And undo all your hard work? I don’t think so.” She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he groaned. “Just keep those thoughts close until later tonight. I’ll let you have whatever you want,” she whispered, “_if_ you can behave.”

“My dear, you are crueler than any Ascian,” he replied, but helped her into her petticoats all the same.

* * *

“They’re in the salon,” Olivier said, descending the stairs before (Y/N). “I think they got sick of you not giving straight answers.”

(Y/N) snorted. “They are not entitled to them. The only people whose opinions I might even consider are on the First, save Tataru, and if she disagrees she can come tell me herself.”

Olivier glanced over his shoulder. “She has. I’m using ‘they’ in the plural, not singular.”

_Zodiark,_ Hades thought.

“Hydaelyn,” (Y/N) groaned. “Who else?”

Olivier stopped outside the door to the Salon, and said, “Krile,” before pushing it open.

“Lady (Y/N) (L/N), ward of House Fortemps,” he announced smoothly, then bowed, and (Y/N) entered the room, leaving Hades to follow in her wake.

_House Fortemps…_ he pondered. _Sounds Ishgardian. I will have to look into it, though it does explain the funding for the luxury._ If she was a ward of the House, this dance may have a few extra steps, to do everything properly - and he would not shame her by doing things in any other manner.

The two Lallafell were sitting on the settee, waiting patiently with small teacups in their hands. One of them, in pink, immediately set down hers and rushed to the (R/N), throwing her arms about her. “(Y/N)! Are you all right? Has he hurt you terribly?”

(Y/N) smiled widely, truly, genuinely, and Hades huffed. _Can’t kill the pink one, then._ “I’m fine, Tataru. I told you I had everything in hand.” 

“We came to see for ourselves,” the one in yellow, probably Krile, given that the pink one was Tataru, said. “You shouldn’t toy with him, (Y/N), it’s not merciful.” Her voice was disapproving.

(Y/N)’s back straightened, and her smile vanished into a thin line. “I thought I made myself _clear_, Krile. I will not be killing him.”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Hades complained, sulkily, from the doorway, before moving further into the room and taking a seat at the low piano bench. The past few days his playing had been confined to those hours when (Y/N) would not see him.

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have decided you are to be put to death,” Krile said primly. “Truth be told, you should have _remained_ dead.” She gave (Y/N) a disapproving look.

“Krile, it’s not polite to lie,” (Y/N) retorted. “That skeleton crew in Mor Dhona hardly constitutes the Scions, and further, I have made myself quite clear - Not only is the Ascian, Emet-Selch, to remain _unharmed_, but I have extended my protection to him. Any who attempt to harm him will answer to _me_.” Her voice was hard, a shard of glass dragged across delicate skin. “Even you, if need be.”

“I have been blessed with the _Echo_,” Krile said, in exasperation. “Hydaelyn does not want this for you.”

“I too have the Echo,” (Y/N) replied. “If Hydaelyn disapproves of my choices, She may tell me Herself.”


	12. Fractals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and (Y/N) talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter, mostly because I kept making myself cry while I was writing it.
> 
> The piano piece I envision is _Gymnopédie No. 1_ by Erik Satie, if you would like to listen, though you've probably heard it before.

Hades exhaled, and turned to face the piano. (Y/N) and Krile had been sniping at each other for over an hour at this point, and the tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a spoon. He had done little to face the realities of what choosing to save him had meant for (Y/N), but he was forced to face it now. 

She would be forced to give up her friends, her work, her home, what little bits of family she had found. If her compatriots on the First ever returned, what would they say upon discovering she had given herself to an Ascian, even if he was merely slumming it as the Emperor of Garlemald? That would still be anathema to them. How many years had Eorzea spent locked in war against his Empire? What answer could be made for Carteneau? (Y/N) had liberated Ala Mhigo and Doma, only to, what? Cross the Burn - the Source’s own version of the Empty - and join with the man who had brought so much woe?

He could not see a way to keep that balance. It seemed everyone she loved disapproved - or would soon disapprove - of this choice, yet here she was fighting to defend it. And yet…

The Lalafell in the pink Doman gown, a kimono, if he remembered correctly, had slipped over beside him. When he glanced at her, she smiled. Like most of her people, it was infectious and child-like. “I’m Tataru Taru,” she said, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Hades shook it, two fingers in her tiny palm. “Emet-Selch. The pleasure is mine, my lady.” No one seemed to notice, as Krile and (Y/N) were still snapping at each other like vipers.

“Are you going to play, Emet-Selch?” she asked, looking hopefully at the piano. “I love music. (Y/N) plays for me sometimes.” Tataru giggled. “Once, when I had a terrible bout of the flu, she sat by my bedside every day and played her harp until I fell asleep. She always played happy songs for me.” The Lalafell turned to watch the argument, but her eyes slid back to him. “She played sad songs, for you.”

His mouth went dry. “She has never played for me.”

“Yes, she has, but you were sleeping. I was here when she came back from the First. When she put the pieces of you back together. When she prayed and prayed and begged Hydaelyn for you. And then you slept. For weeks. And every day she would go into your room and play for you.” Tataru smirked. “I had to leave, then, because Krile had heard about what she’d done, and was of half a mind to march here and smother you with a pillow. (Y/N) came a few days later. And then one day you woke up.”

Krile was yelling something about genocide.

“Olivier contacted (Y/N), and I remember, she stood up in the middle of the meeting, and said, ‘If any one of you harms the Ascian, then I will bring about the Calamity _myself_.’ Then her nose started bleeding and she ran from the room.” Tataru giggled, but Hades’s eyes had snapped to (Y/N), to her straight back, the way her feet had slid into a duelist’s stance, even though she bore no weapon - and the way she had interposed herself between him and her opponent. “That was when I knew she loved you, you know.”

“W-what?” Hades’s attention was torn from her again, and returned to Tataru. “What do you mean?”

“She’s very lonely. No one has ever presented a real challenge, except you Ascians, and Zenos. And even among them, you’re the only other person that saw _her_.” She giggled, her attention focused on the two women shouting at each other about what constituted an unforgivable sin.

“_Other_?” he queried.

Tataru smiled and did a little spin. “And me, of course. When all your friends are much more powerful than you, the idea that one of them is the Warrior of Light instead of _just_ a Scion doesn’t really hold much sway. I think that’s why we’re friends. I’m much too busy making pretty dresses for her to worry about ordering her to kill some primal or take down an entire Castrum.”

Hades smiled at the Lalafell, genuinely. “I think I approve of you, Tataru Taru.”

“You’d better, if you want to keep her. I’m afraid (Y/N) likes me, and she might have a problem if you didn’t.” She sighed and shook her head, and Hades paused. He realized the girl - _Woman,_ he corrected himself mentally - had been calling his lover ‘(Y/N)’ this whole time, unadorned, and it did not bother him. “If someone doesn’t interrupt those two, it’s going to come to blows, soon,” she said.

Hades sighed. “I’ll do it.” Rather than get up, however, he lifted his hands to the keys, and closed his eyes, remembering the sheet music he’d been studying for days - the sheet music he had stolen from (Y/N)’s chambers.

The first thing that struck him, as the soft melody filled the air, was that this had most definitely not been written for the lap harp he found it with. The song _fit_ the piano in a way he had not expected upon first reading, and its melody was peaceful, and hopeful, and held a soft acknowledgement of old hurts, long forgiven. 

(Y/N) and Krile had stopped arguing, but he kept playing.

“I will see our guests out. Perhaps room for them can be found in the servants’ quarters,” Olivier said, and bowed. Tataru gave him another knowing smile, then left, following the Elezen and the other Lalafell, leaving the two of them alone. 

Hades continued to play, focusing on the keys, the touch of his gloved hands as soft as the song itself, and he did not look at her. The song made his heart hurt. It was a song for a life they would never live, one where he remained here with her, did nothing else, became nothing else, and they orbited each other in this tiny manor forever. He suddenly knew that he could have been happy that way, for the lifetime that it lasted. He _could_ have let himself grow old and fade away beside her, to join the Lifestream of the source, another Amaurotine lost to the cycle of rebirth, to be consumed after the Great Rejoining.

“What were you thinking,” he asked, “when you wrote this?” His voice was as soft as the song, and he did not look up.

He heard the swish and crinkle of taffeta as she came and sat beside him on the bench, her back to the piano. From the corner of his eye he could see her hair, the little wisps of it at the nape of her neck, slipping out of the pins, the soft curve of her spine beneath her skin, until it vanished beneath the gown. 

“I wrote it for Amaurot, for what must have been,” (Y/N) whispered. “I was thinking of how lonely those ‘thousand thousand lifetimes’ of yours must have been.”

He gritted his teeth and continued playing. Leave it to her to cut him to the quick with an opening blow. 

“I was thinking of what it must have been like to live there. You said that you were all nigh-immortal. What must it have been like to be in love, like that?” Her voice was wistful. “You would always hurt each other, that’s the nature of relationships. The closer you are, the deeper you can cut.”

(Y/N) sighed, and tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “To love like that must require a deep capacity to forgive. The pain will never stop, so when you choose someone, you must choose to forgive them every transgression, as well.” He felt her hand grip the edge of the bench between them. “But after a time, I think, the cuts would fade away. Forever would be something to give yourself up to, if that makes sense? Eventually the bumps, the hurts and the joys, the highs and the lows, would smooth out into something deep and abiding and true. It all becomes a dance, circling eternally around the core truth of the relationship - you love each other, and forgive each other, no matter what either of you have done.”

Hades licked his lips a moment, and inhaled slowly, to steady himself. “You wrote this song for me, didn’t you?”

She didn’t speak for a long time, and he did not press her. He merely played on, repeating the song as many times as it took, letting the music fill the empty space where her words would be. Finally, she slumped. “Yes.”

He thought about their love in Amaurot and who she had been in that ancient city - the fourteenth member of the Convocation. He let his mind slide over their interactions, meetings, arguments, agreements. Hades remembered the first time, long ago, he had kissed her - soft and unexpected and instinctual, two drops of water slipping together on that sunlit morning, outside the Hall of Rhetoric.

“Marry me.” He didn’t really expect an answer, he just kept playing. But he needed to say it. Needed her to know the door would always be open for her. He had opened it, as their lips parted, under twisting spires and eternal stone. He had reminded her it was there, waiting, throughout their centuries in paradise. He had asked her five times today - but that was nothing compared to the chorus of times he had said it to her, throughout his life. 

“Not yet,” she replied, and he nearly flubbed a note. “I will, one day, but there are things that I must finish first.” It was the same answer she had given then, as well.

“Zenos,” Hades offered. “And Krile. You know what it will mean…”

“... and all the things that it will end,” she said, and the sorrow in her voice cut out his heart. “Neither of us will be free again, once I do.” Her ancient self had said the same, and he knew it for a truth. The love they shared would be both of their undoing.

The song continued, his hands moving of their own accord. Their love would be the two of them, fighting for dominance, and surrendering to the ecstasy of submission. They would hurt each other, _break_ each other, down through eternity, only to put each other back again. To pray to Hydaelyn and Zodiark for the other’s salvation. 

Hades had always envisioned those ancient primals as enemies, sworn to destroy each other, but in that moment, he saw a deeper truth writ large: They were lovers, caught in the same all-consuming destructive dance that he and (Y/N) were.

After all, he had made Zodiark to save (Y/N) from the coming destruction - and she had made Hydaelyn to save him from Zodiark’s tempering.

Why did their love have to hurt so much?

* * *

His hands ached from playing for hours, but he still undressed her with as much gentleness as he could muster. Hades made love to her gently, too. He needed the comfort, like a child clinging to a favorite plush, and she was there, soft and warm and inviting.

Something had changed between them. He no longer worried that death, or Zenos, or the Scions, or anyone, ever, would snatch her from him. If she died, he would find her again after her rebirth. He had already grown used to waiting for her. He could live that fractal existence, petty fights and jealousies of a single lifetime, repeated over the greater sweeping arcs of his piece of eternity, summoning primals and dancing to Their tune, while Zodiark and Hydaelyn both followed and defined the steps he and his lover took, waxing and waning like the moon.

As the idyll of their moment in the salon passed, Hades felt the violence rising in him again. His teeth found her skin; his fingers, her hair. He no longer wanted to destroy her, but he wanted to push her to the edge. He wanted her terror and her trust, and the dichotomy amused him. He had her again, rough and unyielding, tearing orgasms from her like organs, feasting on every one. Then he pulled her close, clutching her against him in the vice that had caught them both, and slept.

The next morning, at breakfast, his hand hovered over the basket of pastries, before he plucked out one out, apple-flavored. Hades left the cherry.

They were (Y/N)’s favorite.


	13. What Happens at the Saucer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the advice of Olivier and Tataru, Hades takes (Y/N) on a date to the Gold Saucer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a quick, fun, fluffy chapter before we get into more drama.

Hades paced the floor in his room, irritated already. Less than five minutes had passed since Zenos had interrupted them discussing Ilberd in her library to _apologize_ for standing her up for their garden walk the day before, and beg her to indulge him then. He’d had a gift, rare Garlean orchids, that he’d presented her with a thousand pretty words about her unparallelled beauty. Though Hades knew the little game they were playing meant she had to go with him, had to let him think he still had a chance at her heart, he still couldn’t stop the possessive anger from overwhelming him, and he’d stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

And now, Hades paced. He knew she would not come after him. She couldn’t, not while the sun was out, not while she still had so many people to protect, even if they were going to forsake her for choosing _him_. He had so much anger, and nothing to do with it. Why couldn’t they see? Why couldn’t anyone see? She belonged to him, with him; her place was by his side, not placating his great-grandson in her hedge maze.

He suddenly couldn’t shake the mental image of Zenos sitting beside her on the edge of the fountain, _their_ fountain. It was where she’d told him of how he’d broken her, told him of Zenos’s suicide. The first place she’d vocalized that she might be Empress of Garlemald to him. The first time they had been truly vulnerable in each other’s arms. The first time he’d realized no other man had enjoyed her. It was not to be shared. It was not _for_ Zenos, no more than Amaurot was.

“If you glare at the floor any harder it might combust.” 

Elidibus’s voice called him out of his swirling thoughts, but he still hissed at his old colleague. “Easy for you to say, he might be there, now, his hands on her -”

The Emissary laughed. “She took him to the rose bushes.”

Relief flooded Hades instantaneously, and he put a hand to his head, only to feel the anger again. “Zenos might still -” 

“Not with her manservant there playing the flirt, Architect.” He realized Elidibus was laughing at him. “It may surprise you, in your melancholy megrims, but not _everyone_ is against the match.”

“Aren’t you?” Hades asked.

The other Ascian snorted. “Of course not. Every moment you have her occupied is a moment she is not actively preventing the Rejoining. She’s been enough of a thorn in our side in recent years that I consider the investment of your time and attention worth it, so long as you can keep her from being _bored_.” He dumped a sack on the bed, and a toddler wriggled out of it, and opened his mouth to scream.

Hades caught the boy before he could, and a moment later he felt the power returning to his fingers, so close, so very close. “Zodiark,” he whispered, “It’s close.”

“Closer than you think,” Elidibus replied, and held out one last infant. “You can have it, if you can keep her distracted.”

“How long?” Hades asked. He hoped the Emissary took it as ‘How long must I stay?’ but what he meant was ‘How long do I have?’

Elidibus shrugged. “As long as is necessary. I’ll check in from time to time.”

Hades took the infant, too absorbed in his thoughts to see the way Elidibus watched him as he turned to the vanity, and visibly relaxed, his Ascian’s mark appearing, at long last, before his face. “Thank you, Elidibus.”

“Remember, Emet-Selch - don’t go on some rampage now that you are restored to your power. I need her _distracted_. If you run off, she’ll be looking for any sign of Ascian activity, which will lead her straight to me.” Hades was always easy to manipulate where (Y/N) was concerned. “Now, you asked for a ‘stunning’ gift for her. You’ll have to pardon me for the theft, when you return to Garlemald.”

Hades shook his head, and turned back to his old friend, an eyebrow raised, only to transmute to marble at the sight of the small earring, a gold, diamond-shaped stud, with a single teardrop pearl dangling from it, the companion to his own. 

As if in a trance, he plucked it from Elidibus’s outstretched hand, staring at it in wonder. He’d thought it lost after his death as Solus, when Varis had liquidated most of the Imperial regalia to fund his war efforts. He’d planned to hunt it down, find out who had this, the most precious relic of Amaurot: the most important piece of his future bride’s wedding regalia, to mark her as _his_ for all to see. A man wearing its companion signified that he had _chosen_ and only waited for their intended to choose - either him, or someone else. Regardless, it meant that he was off the table, so to speak, in regards to romantic endeavors. It was not coincidence that he still wore it, even after all this time.

Elidibus suddenly vanished, and it was the only warning he received before someone knocked at his door. He carefully tucked the earring into an inner pocket of his jacket, then answered.

Olivier stood outside, and beside him, Tataru Taru. “Hello, Emet-Selch!” She gave him a wave, tilting to the side and standing on one leg. “Do you have a minute?”

Hades glanced between Tataru and Olivier. “O-of course, Tataru.” He opened his door a little wider and they entered, Tataru taking a seat at the vanity, while Olivier shut the door, and leaned against it. “To what do I owe the pleasure of the visit?”

“I’ll be blunt. You need to get (Y/N) out of the manor.” Tataru said, swinging her legs playfully. “She’s been trapped here with you for a while now, and only took a break to come to Mor Dhona to try and convince Krile not to kill you. She needs to go have _fun_.”

“Are you implying that what I do with her at night isn’t _fun_?” He grinned wickedly. 

Olivier snorted, and Tataru blushed, but valiantly continued on. “(Y/N) needs a different kind of fun. She needs to laugh. And you need to _show_ her that it’s not all going to be dramatic confessions and sex. They might be fun, but they are stressful, too. So, we’re going to sneak you two out of the manor, so you can go have fun together.”

“Sneak me out?” He looked to Olivier, who shrugged. 

“If (Y/N) is really going to have a future with you,” the Elezen said, “she has to relax. She’s been wound tighter than a clockwork doll. I could do what I usually do, take her out for drinks, and I was planning to, but Tataru thought it should be you instead.” He sighed. “Besides, if we’re going to entertain the possibility of letting you out, letting you go take over Garlemald, we have to know that you’re a man of your word. At least while it will be easy to capture you again should you run out on her.”

“I would _never_ -” Hades began, but Olivier held up a hand.

“Say that all you like. Tataru and I are extending some trust your way. Either you deserve it or you don’t.”

Tataru nodded. “Give him the box, Olivier.” The Elezen produced a large white box made of stiffened cardboard. “I like to dress up my friends. And you stick out like a sore thumb in that get up. So I made you some clothes. Change into that while I get (Y/N) away and get her changed.”

* * *

“I look ridiculous,” Hades said, glancing down at himself. Black slacks, cut close to his legs, and a simple white dress shirt, his sleeves cuffed to his elbows. 

“N-No,” Olivier said, his face beat red, as he held out a pocket watch. “No, you reeeeally don’t.” He raised an eyebrow, so the Elezen continued. “You look very attractive. If you weren’t spoken for by someone I care about _very_ deeply I’d be trying my damnedest to go with you.” He shook his head. “Anyway. You’re responsible for making sure the two of you get back on time. She won’t enjoy it if she’s constantly checking the clock. And here, you’ll need this.”

He held out a wallet, folded over on itself to fit into the pocket of the pants. Hades flipped it open to see a not insubstantial amount of gil. “So much?”

“(Y/N) has expensive tastes, in case you didn’t notice.” Olivier chuckled. “You have until dawn. Directions to the Gold Saucer are in the wallet. (Y/N) has the keys to her car. Now, I need to go make sure the servants are distracting Zenos, then go distract Krile.” The Elezen headed for the door, and, just after opening it, turned back. “Good Luck, Ascian.”

Hades flipped through the wallet again for a few moments, familiarizing himself with the directions provided. He’d heard of the Gold Saucer - a pleasure palace near Ul’dah where the wealthy got up to all manner of debauchery. He also saw a note, to speak to a specific Gold Saucer attendant when he arrived, who would handle the “MGP” issue, whatever that meant.

The sound of voices had him folding away the wallet, and checking the pocket watch. It was around ten in the morning. They should reach the Gold Saucer around noon, and he’d have about eighteen hours of uninterrupted time with her, with one goal - make (Y/N) have _fun_.

“It’s indecent, Tataru! I can’t have anyone in the manor see me like this! Hades would have a fit! You know how possessive he -” The door opened, and Hades turned to see Tataru dragging his intended into the room. 

_Oh,_ Hades thought, looking at the scandalously tiny bits of fabric the Lalafell had stuffed her into. _Oh_ He was going to enjoy tonight.

* * *

_Miniskirts,_ Hades decided, _are the greatest invention of this era._ Watching her climb out of the car had been a whole new delight he had not even realized was an option, but he intended to find out who had made the delightful machine, and fund the man’s research for life. Then he was going to fund a fashion house for Tataru. They both deserved it, for together they had given him the _breathtaking_ sight of (Y/N)’s legs as she climbed out of the low seat, clinging to his hand. 

The shoes her friend had put her in were much higher than those she usually wore, and though she walked with confidence, he noticed she tended to lean on him just a fraction harder, and reach for him just a moment sooner, than she normally would. Yes, he was definitely going to make that Lalafell the wealthiest woman in Garlemald, outside the Imperial Household itself. 

Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s shirt, if it could even be called that, was purely there to torment him. A metal ring around her neck, holding up a square of fabric by one corner, which was, in turn, tied behind her back by tiny straps no wider than a pen. The whole thing barely covered her breasts, and made it exceedingly obvious she wore nothing underneath. He’d barely been able to follow Olivier’s directions, needing to reach out and touch her skin every damn time she moved. He certainly hoped (Y/N)’s idea of fun included sex, because they were going to be having so, so much of it. 

Hades barely noticed the Valet taking the keys from him, and he pulled her close. “You are not to leave my side tonight, (Y/N). Not dressed like that.” He nibbled at the pulse-point in her neck. “I will not tolerate any man being nearer to you than I am.”

(Y/N) chuckled, “Then you’d better not bore me.”

“I’ll do my best. Worst case scenario, I know a few things you like…” He let his fingers slide along the back of her thigh towards the bottom of her miniskirt, but she pulled away, shaking her head.

“You could have done _that_ in my bedroom,” she said, and headed inside - but her hand didn’t leave his, and for the first time, Hades realized he was excited about more than just her bedroom. 

He wanted to see her having fun, too.

* * *

Lunch. Dinner. Dancing. Games. A private room for later. Olivier had arranged it all, so anything (Y/N) wanted would be hers at a moment’s notice. All he had to do was say the word, and they moved from distraction to distraction. Hades watched in delight as she slowly unwound before him.

First, she spoke more. Not in general, but about more personal things. She told him about her travels. About her time in Ishgard, how she’d been adopted by the Count de Fortemps, and brought an end to the Dragonsong War. (Y/N) spoke nervously about aiding the rebellion in Ala Mhigo, watching him tentatively for an angry reaction. But upon realizing he wasn’t going to be upset that she’d unseated decades of Imperial rule, she became more animated, telling him about the _people_ of Ala Mhigo, and Doma. All the many friends she’d made along the way. 

Second, (Y/N) ate. Not that she hadn’t eaten in front of him before, but he was aware of how many women perceived themselves and their bodies, and that it had a negative influence on what and how much they ate. But as he’d earned her trust by not being upset at her rebellions, she ventured further, having him try over a dozen different regional dishes of Eorzea, each bringing a smile to her face, though he catalogued them all, to see which she favored, to introduce to the court.

Lastly, she danced. Not the measured, sedate steps of their waltzes, but with wild abandon in his arms, a temptation, an offer, a promise of joys to come, if only he was brave enough to reach for them. He did, as many times as he could, as often as she let him, and he realized that each touch was just as much a question as an offer - ‘_do_ you still want me?’ (Y/N) seemed to be saying, _’knowing what I am?’_ His answer was still, and would always remain, ‘Yes.’

Hours later, as the music wound down, and they stumbled through the emptying halls towards the lift to their rooms, a sign caught his eye. 

_What happens at the Saucer stays at the Saucer - unless you make it permanent! Tie the knot now! Quick Ceremonies of Eternal Bonding! No wait!_

Hades slowed to a stop and laughed, causing (Y/N) to turn and come to his side. She saw the sign, and giggled as well, a little drunkenly. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “We could still have the big imperial ceremony, when you’re ready.”

(Y/N) said nothing, but he saw the blush creep into her cheeks.

So emboldened, he pulled her a little closer. “We wouldn’t have to tell anyone until we’re ready. It can be our secret.”

“You don’t have a ring,” she said, her blush deepening.

He grinned. “I saw three jewelers on the way here. And that wasn’t a no.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then she said, “You had better hurry, then, before I change my mind.”

Hades had never run so fast in his life, rushing out of her field of view so that he could use his Ascian teleportation without her seeing.

Not long after, he returned, small wooden box clutched in one hand, reaching for her. “Tell me it’s still a yes,” he said, not even caring about the desperation in his voice. “Tell me you still -”

(Y/N) smiled, then, full and bright and carefree, and he could have sobbed in relief in her arms. “They’re only open a few more minutes, Hades.”

“Marry me,” he whispered, and nearly sobbed when her answer, _yes_, told him it would be the last time, after a thousand thousand lifetimes of waiting.

* * *

_Emet-Selch_   
_Solus zos Galvus_   
_Hades_

It had been hard to fit all three into the space provided for his name within the box provided on the paperwork, but he insisted. He would marry her with all he was, all he had ever been, and all he ever would be.

The paperwork, making it all very official, sat in an envelope on the dresser, while Hades and his bride leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching the evening’s fireworks. He kept looking at her, at her right ear. It wasn’t done yet. Not at all. There was one last thing he had to do, before he could be content.

He reached for the earring, gently, through the Rift, while she was distracted, and it materialized in his hand. Tradition dictated that he wore his on the left, and she wore hers on the right, so they were mirrored, a symbol of how one had found their mirror in the other.

“(Y/N)...” he said, softly. She turned, one eyebrow up. “There’s an Amaurotine wedding tradition, I would like, if you’re amenable?”

“That depends,” she said, setting down the bottle of champagne they’d been given as a gift to celebrate. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing difficult, just…” Hades held up the earring, and felt himself blush. “It’s tradition. But… it’s permanent. Once I…” He shook his head. He’d rehearsed this speech more often than any other words that he’d ever spoken. Exhaling slowly, he fixed her with his gaze again.

“Once I put this on you, that’s it. You’re mine. There is no changing it. No going back. We can keep it secret, if you like. We can dance to whatever tune you sing. But no one else will have you. I will not share. I will not yield. I will fight until my dying breath, do whatever it takes, to have you beside me. No matter the cost.” He was shaking - oh Zodiark he was shaking all over and he might vomit. “Do you still want this?”

Hades could see (Y/N) knew what the question really meant: Do you still want _me_?

She stood still, staring at the earring in his hand, then at him, as if she could find the answer in his heart rather than her own. Then she whispered, “Yes,” and brushed her hair back, tilting her head towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's gonna be smut.


	14. Marital Bliss (EX)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and (Y/N) enjoy their wedding night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the Smut you nerds. We're about to begin the descent.

Hades swallowed anxiously, and approached her. He had spent eons dreaming of this moment, wondering what form it would take, what she would do, or say, but now it was unfolding before him and it was so much better than he had imagined. The lines of (Y/N)’s neck, pulled taut and exposed for him. He reached out to touch her, to slide one hand around the back of her neck, and took a moment to nibble on her ear, right on the spot where he would place the earring - the last time he would taste that tiny sliver of her skin without the metal.

(Y/N) gasped and pressed herself against him. 

“Patience,” he whispered softly, and brought the earring up, trying to still his shaking hand. For a moment, he had to let go of her neck, needing one hand to pull her ear up and back from her head while the other sought and found the tiny hole where she usually kept other piercings. 

_Not anymore,_ he thought victoriously, pressing the post down and in, then snapped the back into place, sealing the whole thing with a flicker of Ascian power. He’d be damned if it was uncomfortable, or would risk falling off in her sleep.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he could no longer resist. Hades caught her words with his lips, shoving them back down her throat with his own tongue as he explored every inch of her mouth as voraciously as he could. All of her was _his_ now, and he would not fail to thoroughly enjoy his greatest prize. When she wrenched herself away to breathe, he hooked one finger around the metal ring at her neck, and pulled her back in.

Keeping his lips on hers, and his finger through the makeshift lead, Hades pulled her back into the room with him, then turned, hooking one foot behind hers. With a grin, he released her neck and lips, gave her a little push, and she tumbled over his foot and onto her back on the bed. (Y/N) blinked in surprise for a moment, and pushed herself up on her elbows, grinning as he unbuttoned his shirt. She reached for the zipper at the side of her skirt.

“No,” he choked out, reaching for her. “Leave it on. I want to undress you.”

“And I don’t get to undress you?” (Y/N) pouted playfully, but made no move to get up. 

Hades shrugged out of the shirt, and grinned when she made a tiny gasp, making a mental note to hire Tataru the minute they returned. He’d wear motley every damned day if it got her to make noises like that when he got undressed. He tossed the shirt to the ground, then reached for his pants, toeing off his shoes in the process. 

(Y/N) let herself fall back onto the satin coverlet, her hair pooling beneath her head and laughed, her whole torso shaking with the action, and it made Hades chuckle as well. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m just… I’m so happy. And I don’t know why. I should be terrified right now. Everyone I know will _hate_ me for this. But I just don’t care.”

“Of course, you don’t,” he grinned. “We’re two idiots in love. We got married. Nothing anyone says or does for the rest of time can change that.” He pushed the slacks to the floor, and crawled into bed beside her. “It is an immutable fact of the universe now, like the workings of aether or mere gravity. (Y/N) belongs to Hades, and Hades to (Y/N). Hydaelyn best help any who would stand between us, for I follow Zodiark, and he is not known for _mercy_.”

(Y/N) laughed again, delight evident on her face, and Hades pulled her into his arms, peppering her neck with kisses. “You’re mine,” he hissed, sliding his hand to her hip - to the zipper on the tiny miniskirt she wore, tugging it down until the whole thing fell away, a rectangle of black leather that he tossed to the ground unceremoniously.

He glanced down, and nearly choked. “You mean to tell me you’ve been bare beneath that all day? I could have had you a dozen times.” Hades sank his teeth into her shoulder. “You’re not to go out in something _that_ scandalous without undergarments again unless you ask me first.”

“Oh, really,” she purred, pressing herself against him while his fingers pulled apart the ties holding her ‘shirt’ in place. “And what will happen if I do?”

He unhooked the metal ring that held it at her throat and tossed the rest of the article aside. “You’ll spend the night in my lap, so I can fuck you whenever I please.” She laughed and threw one leg over him, and he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. “It would be the height of rudeness to not accept such an invitation from my own wife.”

(Y/N) sighed dreamily, straddling him. “Say it again, Hades.”

“Say what?” he asked, clutching her hips in his hands to guide her onto his cock.

“That I’m -” she gasped as he pulled her down onto him, and wiggled until she was comfortable. Her breath was coming faster now. “That I’m your wife.”

Hades grinned and reached for her, sliding his hand around her neck and letting his thumb brush against her earring, the twin of his own. “You are my wife, (Y/N). Now, and ever after.” She purred and leaned against his hand, rocking slightly. The feel of her body moving around him made him drop his head back on the pillow. “Zodiark, that feels good.”

“Does it?” she whispered, and rocked again, more forcefully. When he groaned, she moved her hands to his shoulders, bracing herself on him, and began to move in time with the heartbeat he could still feel in her neck.

“Yes,” he hissed, lifting his hips to meet hers every time she came back down. “Take your pleasure from me, (Y/N). Use me as you need. Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me,” she whimpered. “Tell me you love me.” She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “Tell me this isn’t all in my head.”

“It’s not, my dear - my darling,” Hades gasped, giving in to the tension coiling inside him, letting one hand slip from her neck to her breast, rolling it in his hand and tweaking her nipple gently. The other hand he brought up along her leg, slipping one finger between them to rub against her clit every time she came down to grind against him. “(Y/N), I have adored you longer than your world has existed. I loved you long before we made Hydaelyn and Zodiark. Long before any of what is came to be.” 

She began to move faster and the tightness in his chest began to rob him of his voice. “You…” he swallowed and closed his eyes. “Oh, (Y/N), you…” He shook his head. “Darling, I’m so close…” 

“Don’t you _dare_,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare cum until I have, Hades.”

“That’s all…” he murmured, focusing on her, “all I have to do? Once you’ve cum, I can finish?” His voice was rough with the strain of pushing away his orgasm, but he forced himself to focus, pulling back from the edge. “(Y/N), do you want me to _make_ you get off?”

“Yes,” she begged, wobbling on top of him. “I’ve wanted it all da~ay.” 

Hades laughed victoriously, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down to his chest. He rolled her onto her back beneath him, and pushed himself back into her, before kissing, licking, and biting every inch of skin he could reach. “You’re mine, (Y/N),” he whispered, shoving one of his hands between them so his thumb could rub her clit. “You belonged to me long before you belonged to Hydaelyn, and you will be mine long after She is gone.” The words were just as much for himself as they were for her. He needed to hear them just as badly, needed to know that despite everything pushing them apart, they would still find each other, still come together.

“H-Hades,” she moaned, and he felt her legs slide up, letting him plunge in deeper. “Hades, please.” Her brow wrinkled with strain as she came up to the edge, and he did as any good husband should, pushing her off the precipice into an orgasm. She shuddered and bucked beneath him, and the intensity was enough to push him over the edge as well.

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten when he pulled away from her again, still yearning for her body despite how many times he’d fucked her tonight. (Y/N) mewled in protest, reaching for him, but he shook his head. “I promised Olivier and Tataru I’d have you back by dawn, my dear. I do not want to give them a reason to distrust me any further. We’re going to be late as it is.”

She glanced out the window. “Not if I drive.”

“Why does that sound like a dangerous proposition?” Hades asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Because it is,” she said, pulling her clothes back on. “But you married me, so I think you like to live dangerously.”

“Touché,” he replied, and pulled his wife into his arms for a quick kiss before getting dressed himself.


	15. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reminder of the Archive Warnings.

After their marriage, the days began to slip through Hades’s fingers like seed pearls - tiny, precious things they were, each as idyllic as the last - or as much as they could be with their adversaries breathing down their necks. He began to notice little things about (Y/N) that brought him joy.

Every morning, he had breakfast with his wife. Two apple pastries and a cup of tea, while she ate the cherry. Afterward they sat in silence, clutching each other’s hands, watching the sun rise over the Thanalan. Then she would go for a walk with either Zenos or Krile, to suffer the former’s bumbling flirtations or the latter’s vain attempts to order her compliance. He would hide in her rooms, watching from the balcony, and occasionally, (Y/N) would look up, and their gazes would meet, and his heart would be at ease. That was all it took, he found: knowing that she thought of him, even when another occupied her attention.

Then they would all have lunch together, dancing back and forth between topics, Zenos desperately trying to woo (Y/N), Solus pretending to be bad at it, but his fingers would still find hers beneath the table. It had been his idea to insist he sat on one side of her, and Zenos on the other. His great-grandson could feel that he was “close” to her, and not notice the way she hooked her ankle around her husband’s while she spoke to the boy, honeyed words and soft smiles. (Y/N) could be a manipulative viper when necessary, but Solus found the sight intoxicating more than anything else. 

Their afternoons would be spent “napping” when in truth, they were ensconced in her bedchamber, stealing a few quiet, daylight hours to be close. To chat, to dance, to make love, what they did mattered little, so long as they could have that time together. It was in those stolen moments that Hades could see eternity. He could see all that he yearned for within his grasp, at long last, and they made every triviality worth it. 

Dinner would follow after, with fine food, fine wine, and dancing. Tataru was fun to dance with, he carried her like a child, but she didn’t mind, as they would gossip about the others playfully while they moved across the floor. Of anyone, she seemed the most unabashedly accepting of their relationship, though they’d told no one of the marriage. Hades almost wished to tell her of it, but (Y/N) had insisted she not know. “Of anyone,” his wife had said, “she will be most offended. Not that we wed, but that we did not invite her, not after how many wedding gowns she has designed.” 

Krile, of course, refused to dance with him, though she would even dance with Zenos. She took great offense to everything he did, even loudly complaining about being seated at the same table as he was until (Y/N) made it clear that she could dine with them, or by herself, but that Solus had a standing invitation to her table, and it would not be rescinded on the Lalafell’s account. Then the woman lapsed into grudging silence, but he could still feel her watching his every move.

Then, of course, was dancing with (Y/N) herself. The moment she was in his arms, the world fell away. They would murmur of everything and nothing while they danced, and he would forget all the troubles and concerns, everything of Ascians and Primals, Empires and Wars. All that mattered was (Y/N), and that she loved him as ardently as he loved her.

Maybe that was why he did not notice Zenos’s growing discontent - why he didn’t notice the boy and Krile whispering together. Maybe his lovestruck days blinded him to the growing political minefield he and his wife had created, heedless of the consequences. Maybe that was why, when he forgot himself and kissed her in the dining room, in full view of everyone, he chalked Zenos’s storming out to petty jealousy, and nothing more.

That night, as he climbed the stairs, he found Krile waiting for him just before the door to his room.

“We need to talk,” she said, her arms crossed.

Hades sighed, wearily. “All right.” He turned to his door, but the handle wouldn’t turn. He glanced back over his shoulder at Krile. “Olivier must have locked it. Let me see if he has a key.”

“Olivier didn’t lock it,” Krile said, stiffly. “I did. Two weeks ago. And not once have you even tried to open that door, until now. Which begs a very important question, _Solus_.” He winced, internally. At least part of the jig, as they say, was up. “Where have you been sleeping?”

He said nothing, so Krile opened her mouth to continue, but a crash sounded from (Y/N)’s room, upstairs, and he could hear her scream for a brief moment, before it was cut short. 

Hades did not hesitate. He let the void consume him, and spit him back out in her bedchamber, to find Zenos pinning (Y/N) to the desk by her neck, her gown rent open, forcing himself on her. She was fighting him with everything she had, her fingernails poised like claws, her legs kicking him over and over. 

“Submit, woman,” Zenos growled. “I have had enough of your games. You’ve let the old man have you, so it’s not as if you’ve any honor left to protect.” His hand was at her throat, and her face was turning purple, but still she fought.

Anger, hot and heavy and red, welled up within Hades, and he rushed the boy, claws of his Ascian form extended toward him. The aether of the Rift, the void, the power of Zodiark, and all the magic of creation a complete Amaurotine could summon answered his fury. For a few moments, Hades knew nothing else.

When he came to himself, in the rubble of her bedroom, he whispered, “My darling, are you all right?”

Her look of shock and horror had not faded, and she stumbled back, away from him, one hand going to her mouth. He took a step closer, and caught his own reflection in her now-shattered mirror.

_Ah._

He had not come into this room as Solus zos Galvus, Garlean Emperor, but as Emet-Selch, the Ascian. He had lost control of his emotions, and his self had changed to reflect that - black and purple robes, gloves with long claws on his hands, the red mask with thin silver arcs over his face, behind the red Ascian’s mark as well. None of which should have come to him, if he were still sundered.

“(Y/N), I…” He started, but she turned her back to him, pulling off the tattered gown, leaving herself in chemise and petticoats and corset.

“How long?” she asked, staring out the gaping hole in her wall, bricks and glass and splintered wood scattered through her gardens. He could hear servants yelling. “How long have you been whole?”

“The morning before we married.” Hades replied. He would not lie to her, not now.

“How?” Her second question, a just one.

“Elidibus.” It did not require further explanation.

“Why did you marry me? Why did you stay?”

“Because I love you.” His response finally got her to turn back, to look at him, and he saw her face crumple for a moment, then she ran into his arms, robe and mask and mark and all, no heed paid to the destruction around them.

Someone was rattling the door, but he did not care. He kissed her, then, and could have wept for joy when she kissed him back, even if her lips were bruised. After a heartbeat, he pulled away. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you? Did he…”

(Y/N) paused. He felt her stiffen. “I tried to stop him. H-He threatened…” 

“... to kill himself.” Hades finished. It would have been the one thing that prevented her from ending the boy herself.

The banging on the door became louder, and he held up one hand, snapping his fingers. He felt his power ripple across the room, sealing it from intrusion. “Krile knows I have been sleeping with you.” He sighed heavily and looked across the room at the blood splattered on the edges of the hole in her wall, the only remaining evidence of Zenos’s existence. “And that’s going to cause complications.” He stroked her cheek with the tip of one of his claws, fascinated that she did not shy away from him. “You meant what you said, about forgiving me anything.”

“I knew who you were when I married you,” she replied. “I knew what you would try to do once I released you. I just didn’t expect it this soon.”

“Why do you want an Ascian, (Y/N)?” He asked. “You could have had anyone.”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t…” (Y/N) sighed and buried her face in his robe. “I didn’t think I had those kinds of feelings. Romance, sexual attraction - I thought they were for others, but not me. I thought it was the price I paid for being the ‘Warrior of Light’.” She sighed again, heavily. “Then I saw you for the first time in the Exedra, and I suddenly understood every song and poem I’d heard over the years. Every joke of Thancred’s, every allusion of Urianger’s. They all made sense when I looked at you. Then in the next breath you revealed you were an Ascian, and I struggled with my feelings every moment on the First. It is more… I fell in love with _you_, at first sight, and you happen to be an _Ascian_. That fact is the only reason I fought at all.”

(Y/N)’s eyes moved over him a moment, and she reached up, letting her fingers find the edges of his mask. He did not pull away. “Can I?” she whispered.

Hades smiled, warmed through. “Removing my mask is a privilege I _only_ grant to you, my darling.” She giggled, lightly, and he felt her tug his mask away, and saw her clutch it to her chest. 

“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him again.

“And I, you.” He was so thankful that at least this one thing was simple for them. His gaze flicked to Zenos’s body, then the door. “What do you want to do?”

“You can’t stay,” she said simply. “Garlemald needs an emperor.”

“Then come with me. Be my empress.”

Her face twisted in pain again, and tears welled out of her eyes. “I _can’t_. They would despise me. And I need time. I need to see Garlemald as something of _yours_, not _his._”

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for?” Hades asked. “An excuse? Just say I kidnapped you.”

“Then they will try to save me.” She began to cry harder, sobbing in his arms, and it suddenly all made sense, but he let her speak. “They will come, with sword and bow and magic and armies, breaking themselves trying to save me.”

“You need them to see the futility,” he said, stroking her hair. “You need those you care about to see you beside me as the least bad of a myriad of options.” He was already assembling a strategy, plans braiding together in his mind to create the outcome his beloved yearned for. “You need to be the sacrifice they make for the greater good.” He kissed her temple. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, though I know I shouldn’t.”

He laughed, darkly. “You have nothing to fear from me any longer, (Y/N). You are my wife. And I have a plan.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t have all the minor details yet, but…” He kissed her again. “I will have to leave for a while. I must go to Garlemald. While I’m gone, play the victim. Tell them what Zenos did. Zodiark, tell them I did it, if you must.” Hades rained kisses on her lips, her face, her hair. “When it starts, fight against me with everything you have, until we’re face to face again.”

“What are you going to do?” (Y/N) asked, still trembling in his arms.

Hades kissed her one last time, fighting back against the tears he could feel pricking at his own eyes. He wanted more time with her, without the outside world. But he had to do this, for (Y/N). When he pulled away, he answered her. “I will be the villain you need. I will bear the weight of both our sins, my love, if that is what it costs to have you by my side.” He stroked her ear, and let his thumb roll pointedly over the earring. “Don’t take this off. It will help me find you, if necessary. And I will find a way to send you messages discreetly. When you are alone, love me as much as you do right now. When you are around others, hate me for all I have done.” He planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “Are you ready?”

“No,” she whimpered.

“Too bad.” He took the mask back, and placed it on his face. “When I’m gone, start screaming.”

Then he surrendered himself to the Rift.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

Emperor Solus zos Galvus of the Eternal Empire of Garlemald entered the throne room as the Garlean Anthem played loud enough to make the floor shake. Legati lined both sides of the carpet leading to the throne, and saluted with precision as he entered, standing between him and the crowd of courtiers who bowed or curtsied, as was their want, in deference. 

None of it mattered. All the glitter, all the show, all the courtly dance and politics - they were all tools he was about to use to put his plan in motion. At the top of the steps, before his throne, he turned to face them all, and give the speech he had prepared.

“Citizens! Subjects! Slaves! Attend to me.” The Courtiers shuffled around to face him, while the legati, in lock step, and turned.

“I am _Solus zos Galvus_,” he continued, “the founding father of this Empire. I have conquered numerous lands, and as many of you know, even conquered Death! I have reached into the Rift itself, and stolen the power of the dark gods who dwell there! I have raised myself from mere man to immortal Paragon! I have stolen the powers of darkness, and taken on a new name - Emet-Selch!”

A cheer went up from the courtiers, followed a moment later by the Legions arrayed outside the palace, his words transmitted through magitek. 

“All this I have done, for the Glory of Garlemald.” _A lie,_ he thought. _This is all for (Y/N)._ “All this I have done, to secure the future of my people. And yet, a blight still marrs my great vision for this star!”

“For _too long_ has Eorzea stood against the might of _my_ empire!” His voice echoed back to him off the marble walls, and he closed his eyes, remembering (Y/N)’s laugh.

“For _too long_ has corruption and decadence interfered with the work of our people!” None like Zenos would ever be raised high again. Even now, months later, he wanted to hire a conjurer to raise the boy from death so that he might slay him again.

“For _too long_ has the Warrior of Light sewn chaos and rebellion where we would bring order and peace!” That was not a lie. She had brought her chaos and rebellion into Doma and Ala Mhigo, and right into Hades’s own withered heart.

“But even now, I am generous. Even now, I am merciful! This very morning, I sent a dispatch to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn - Surrender the Warrior of Light to me, and I will seek no quarrel with your people. I would lay down my Eorzean aspirations, if such an element were brought to heel.” He could not say he hadn’t tried. Solus had known from the moment he sent the missive it would be rejected. That was intentional. He merely wanted the idea of surrendering (Y/N) to be in their head, lying dormant like a seed through winter, until the soil had been watered with the blood of enough Eorzean soldiers that it took root and sprouted. “My people, I tell you. _They have denied me._”

“Thus, I am left with no choice.” His Legati were grinning beneath their masks. It was for this purpose this empire had been created. For this purpose, each of them had been raised high. Their hopes and dreams and aspirations could only be earned on the battlefield - and they were eager for the chance. 

“Garlemald!” Solus cried. “To War!”

The nobles and legati within the room cheered, and a moment later, the legions, arrayed in splendor around the palace, cheered as well. He took a seat on his throne, and the legati formed ranks, preparing to deliver reports on their initial preparations for the coming conflict.

Soon, he would be drowning in strategy and troop movements and battle plans. But for a moment, he reached up, and let his finger brush the earring in his left ear. _(Y/N)_, he thought. _I told you I would give you the world._ Beneath his armor, close to his heart, he carried the only missive she had managed to smuggle to him, that he had only received a few days ago.

_I love you,_ unsigned, but a twisted lock of her hair accompanied it, and he knew her penmanship. That tiny token was all it took. That small reminder of why he continued on, despite everything.

* * *

Far to the southwest, the ticker tape machine in (Y/N) (L/N)’s library printed off a notice that The Eternal Empire of Garlemald had declared war on the Eorzean Alliance. An Elezen named Olivier snatched it from the machine and carried it up two flights of stairs, to the Lady of the Manor’s rooms, on a silver tray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am aware a lot of people may not like the way the main character reacted to being assaulted. However, I would like to mention that her immediate reactions depicted in this chapter are very similar to my own reactions when I was in a similar situation. I pushed it aside, and didn't think about it, pretended everything was normal, until the next day when I couldn't anymore. 
> 
> As Solus/Hades is our viewpoint character, he does not get to see the inner workings of the Main Character's mind. I also made the decision to have him leave and do a time skip, rather than have months of her putting herself back together while he sat around. 
> 
> In the end I chose this method, wherein we move into Act Two, and (Y/N)'s healing happens behind the scenes, not as a way to brush over it, but because my own healing from this event was intensely private, and is hard to relive. I seriously considered cutting the assault all together, but in the end decided to keep it, because so many stories focus on the assault becoming the only thing that matters to the survivor, the great trauma that defines them. I wanted at least one story where the survivor overcomes it and goes on to live her life without being 'undone'. 
> 
> I may come back and edit these chapters later, if I change my mind. I don't know. For now, get ready for war.


	16. Fordola and Aulus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the war heats up, Solus begins working behind the scenes as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly awkward transitional chapter, mostly exposition for Act II. I hope you like it.

**Four Months Later**

It was Zenos who’d had command at the Ala Mhigan front when the war entered its stalemate. Since then, the front had been maintained by a number of Tribuni, eager to move up in the ranks. It was for this reason they arrayed themselves formally for the arrival of their emperor, performing smart salutes as he walked by heading for the command tent where his Legati waited.

When Solus had reclaimed his throne, the legions had been in sorry shape. They had been hemorrhaging soldiers since Carteneau, and petty malice had kept recruitment low. That had been the first of the sweeping changes he had enacted - full citizenship for any man who enlisted after one year of service, citizenship for his wife and children as well after five years, or upon his death, whichever came first. The number of enlisted men had skyrocketed overnight. 

However, because of this, most of his soldiers were green, unblooded boys, in desperate need of practical battle experience. They would need strong, pragmatic commanders to see them through the first few skirmishes. So, as he walked, Emperor Solus zos Galvus of the Eternal Empire of Garlemald, Emet-Selch, the Architect, cast an appraising eye over the potential Legati.

“Whom amongst you has ever _seen_ the Warrior of Light?” he asked. Of them, three stepped forward, but remained at attention. He approached the first. “Your name, boy?”

“Otho sas Pomponius, your Imperial Majesty.” The boy responded. _A good, pure-blooded Garlean name._

“Tell me, Otho, when and where did you see her?” He watched the boy’s reaction. A secondary Tribunus, a promotion to legatus would be a monumental jump for him.

He saluted again. “Sire, when she raided Castrum Meridianum, some three years past.”

“And what did you think of the Warrior of Light?”

The boy’s eyes widened momentarily. “Sh-She was a mad dog, Your Imperial Majesty. She killed hundreds as she tore through.”

Solus pursed his lips. “I see.” He stepped passed Otho to the next Tribunus. “Your name?”

“Seneca tol Sergius, Sire.” This man was a little older, and his salute, though pristine, also bore the telltale signs of second nature. 

“Tell me where and when you saw the Warrior of Light, and what you thought of her.”

“Your Imperial Majesty. I only saw her for a few moments during the Siege of Ala Mhigo, but we were busy holding off Ishgardian knights. In my opinion, Sire, she seemed surprisingly unintimidating. I had expected a monster, but she was a slip of a girl, the same age as my daughters. Had I not known it was her, I’d have assumed she had lost her way and stumbled on the battlefield, your Imperial Majesty. Then I saw her kill half a cohort in the time it took me to kill a single Ishgardian.” the man chuckled. “She is not to be trifled with, Sire, if I may be so bold.”

Solus gave the man an easy smile. “I am inclined to agree, Tribunus.” 

He stepped past him, to the third. An Ala Mhigan woman, with gritted teeth and an angry look in her eye. “And you?”

“Fordola rem Lupus, Your Imperial Majesty.” He froze. That name was familiar. He’d heard it, somewhere before. He was frantically trying to place it. “The first time I saw the Warrior of Light was in Gyr Abania, when I was serving as commander of the Crania Lupi. The most recent time was when I dined with her at her manor last month.” The woman’s sword was free of its scabbard in an instant, the others too slow to realize the implication of what she had said.

Solus raised his arm to block the blow, and snapped his fingers. Fordola vanished.

“I have something to attend to,” he said, abruptly, then turned to the older man. “You say the Warrior of Light is not to be trifled with.”

“I do, Sire.”

Solus nodded. “Then you have command, Seneca van Sergius. Otho tol Pomponius will be your second. I assume you have the rest in hand?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Thank you, Sire!” Both Seneca and Otho saluted, but he was already walking away, letting the void pull him in, and spit him out before a holding cell in the nearby Castrum. Fordola was inside, swinging her sword in a rage against the bars.

“Calm down, woman.” He grumbled, and she lowered her blade, but still panted angrily, her teeth bared. “How is (Y/N)?”

“Why do you care?” she shrieked, and swung her sword again. 

“Answer me, first.” His hands were shaking. Most of the people he spoke to had seen her months ago, at the most recent. “How is she?”

Fordola frowned. “As well as can be expected.”

He growled. “What does that _mean_? You’re being vague.”

“You really don’t know?” Fordola laughed darkly. “Good to know your fingers have been fully extracted from her life, then.”

“I should just kill you and be done with it. I thought you could be of use to me.” Hades grumbled. He reached inside his armor, and pulled out the crumpled envelope, holding it out to her. Fordola frowned, carefully taking the envelope from his hand between the bars. “Be careful with it,” he whispered.

He watched Fordola’s face as she opened the envelope, and pulled out the small notecard, the edges yellowed and crinkled from how he clutched it when the pain of their separation became too much. Her eyes widened, and a change overtook her right eye - it became black, with a strange, pink and red pattern within. He took a step back. (Y/N) had mentioned the Resonance, a manufactured Echo, but he hadn’t expected -

Fordola’s hand went to her head, and she cried out, stumbling back a step, her fingers releasing the card. He snapped reflexively, and it moved to his hand. Hades could not let it touch the ground. It was too precious. He turned it over in his hand, smiling softly at his wife’s elegant script, and more, at the heartfelt message. The message she felt most important for him to receive.

“Oh, Rhalgr’s Cock,” Fordola wiped the blood away from her nose with her wrist. “You’re not… You’re…” She laughed a little hysterically. “She tamed a Twelve-be-damned Ascian.”

“I object to your use of ‘tamed’.” He replied. “If anything, I’ve tamed her.”

“You married her. That’s what she was thinking of when she wrote that, you know.” Fordola grinned maliciously. “She was sitting at the writing desk in her room, trying to decide how much to tell you, in case the letter was intercepted. She sat and wept and twisted the ring on her finger and wrote that for you.” Every word was an arrow to Hades’s heart. 

He held up the letter again, tracing the letters, as if he could comfort her past self with the recognition. “I love you too, darling,” he whispered, once again fighting the urge to run to her side. They most likely had the white auracite waiting for him again by now.

“... fine. Solus, are you even listening to me?” Fordola’s voice finally cut through his thoughts.

“Oh. Right. Fordola.” He shook his head. “Please, what were you saying?”

She sighed. “(Y/N)’s been under house arrest. Krile still doesn’t trust her. But I was trying to tell you she’s fine.” Fordola shrugged. “She believes it’s only a matter of time until they’re forced to field her.”

“Lady (Y/N),” Hades corrected reflexively. He was at the bars, his face inches from Fordola’s. “How often can you go see her? Could you carry messages for us?”

“Will you end the war?” Fordola asked.

“So long as she is beside me, I have no quarrel with Eorzea.” He narrowed his eyes. “I made that clear in my missive.”

Fordola frowned. “I’ll have to tell them you’re married.”

“No,” he said, biting his lip. “We want to have a second wedding, for the public. The Gold Saucer was just for us. It’s…” He leaned his head against one of the bars. “Everything in our lives together will be public. She is the Warrior of Light. I am the Emperor of Garlemald. The world will watch our every move.” He closed his eyes. “Our first wedding was for us. For love. For no other reason than striking back and having one small sliver of privacy. Please, don’t tell anyone.”

“Then they won’t give her up,” She said pointedly. 

Hades laughed. “And if they knew about the wedding, they’d just try to argue that it wasn’t legitimate, and doesn’t count. Plus, she believes that the Eorzean leaders see her as a pawn to be used as they see fit.”

“Not at all!,” Fordola argued. “She’s a good friend!”

“If she was their _friend_, would she be under house arrest?” He asked, pointedly.

Fordola took a step back, and he continued. “Tell me. What do you think they would do if she had just gotten up, packed her things, and followed me to Garlemald?”

“They would have…” The Ala Mhigan woman slumped. “Oh.”

“Exactly. She needs them to give her up willingly. To not seek to bring her back.” He leaned his head against the bars. “A few hundred thousand lives now, to save millions over the years in failed rescue attempts.”

Fordola groaned. “Neither of you make anything easy, do you?” She leaned on the wall. “What do I get out of it?”

“My _literally_ eternal gratitude?” Hades replied, playfully. “Really, Fordola, name your price.”

She kicked a rock on the cell floor while she thought, then said, “Aulus.”

He frowned a moment. “Aulus… where have I heard that name?”

She looked shocked. “Aulus mal Asina! He was conducting the Resonance experiments.”

“Oh… I think I know him.” Solus nodded. “The Praefectus Medicorum.” He smiled and tilted his head towards Fordola. “Want some revenge?”

She blushed and looked at the floor. “He had soft hands…” she mumbled.

Solus laughed. “Very well. You’ll have to make yourself useful to (Y/N) as well, so I have an excuse to include you in her retinue.” He grinned at the poor girl. “But I will see to it that Aulus is ready and waiting for his new bride when the war is over.”

“But we haven’t spoken in over a year!” It was Fordola’s turn to lean against the bars. “I want to talk to him.”

“That, I can relate to.” Hades realized he was becoming a romantic and hated it. “In the second battle she fields, help (Y/N) slip away in the chaos. I will come find her, and I will take you to Aulus.” He smiled. 

“All right, what message do you want me to carry?” 

“For now, just remind her of my love, and tell her the plan.” His hands were shaking. “Convince them to field her, if you can. I haven’t seen her in months.” He needed (Y/N) like oxygen; he was suffocating slowly without her.

* * *

Fordola climbed the steps to (Y/N)’s front door, nodding to the guards stationed outside. She rang the bell, her fingers trembling anxiously. _Can I do this?_

She let her mind slide back to last year, when she sat in her cell in Ala Mhigo. It was just after (Y/N) had returned from the Ghimlyt Dark. They sat together in silence for a long time, before she finally asked, “Fordola, do you think Ilberd was right?”

That question had haunted Fordola since, along with everything else. In retrospect, she knew she had been a pawn for Gaius, and Zenos after him. Tools to keep the people of Ala Mhigo in check, someone for the populace to hate rather than the throne itself. The only Garlean who hadn’t seemed to see her as something to use had been Aulus. He had been… interested. Maybe not like a man was normally interested in a woman, but he had studied her with care and precision and every time he had said that word, _’Fascinating,’_ her heart had turned over in her chest.

Fordola shook her head. She had to focus right now. Speak to (Y/N), and see if she actually wanted to be returned to the Ascian.

The Elezen butler, Olivier, answered the door, dragging her out of her thoughts. “Aah. Mistress Fordola. What an unexpected surprise.”

“Can I see (Y/N)?” she asked. 

“I believe she isn’t having visitors right now,” he said, gently.

“Tell her I saw what happened at the Saucer. Then see if she will speak to me.”

Olivier stilled a moment, then said, “What do you mean ‘what happened at the Saucer’?”

“That’s between (Y/N) and I. If she wants to tell you, she will.” Fordola crossed her arms, and he invited her inside to wait in the vestibule.

She examined the walls slowly. You couldn’t even tell the Emperor had almost destroyed the place when he escaped. Knowing what she knew now, she wondered if ‘escape’ was really the right word. Zenos’s body still hadn’t been found, and when asked, all (Y/N) would say was that “Solus took out the trash when he left.”

Olivier was suddenly at the foot of the stairs. He bowed. “She will see you.”

She followed the Elezen up, letting her mind wander. (Y/N) had always presented the same face to the others - the Warrior of Light, desperate to see her friends safe and happy. But now her real friends were trapped on the First. Well, except Tataru. But the Lalafell had avoided conversations about (Y/N) and Solus. And now (Y/N) was locked within her shell, saying nothing, revealing nothing, and Krile was getting worse. If it came to blows, which side was Fordola really on?

The answer came too quickly, even though she tried to shut her eyes against it.

_Aulus_

Solus had offered her Aulus, and if Aulus was willing, then her choice was made.

They entered (Y/N)’s bedroom, which she had just returned to after the repairs. Most of her things were still missing, but her bed was still set in the middle of the room, and she had tea service on a low table between two couches.

“Fordola,” She said, standing stiffly. “Olivier said you saw what happened at the Gold Saucer.” (Y/N)’s hand went to her ear, and she fiddled with the pearl on her earring anxiously.

“I did.” Her eyes snapped to Olivier. “He doesn’t know, I take it.”

“No,” (Y/N) said. “But only because I haven’t been able to find the words. I trust Olivier implicitly.”

“What happened?” Olivier asked, looking between the two of them.

Fordola smiled a little wider. “So the _only_ people who know are you, the Emperor, and I?” (Y/N) nodded, and so Fordola’s choice was made, for now, at least. 

The Ala Mhigan stood tall, and stomped, bringing her fist before her face in the Imperial salute. “Then allow me to be the first to offer my congratulations, Empress (Y/N). Your husband sends his love, and has arranged for me to help you return to his side, for a time, if you wish it.”

“How?” A light Fordola hadn’t realized had gone out had returned to the (R/N)’s eyes. “Yes, I wish it. How?”

“Hold on,” Olivier interjected. “Husband? Empress?”

“Solus and I married at the Gold Saucer, a little less than a year ago,” (Y/N) said. “We intend to keep that between friends, and have the full Imperial ceremony once this is over.” She fixed her gaze on Fordola. “You still haven’t told me how I can see him again.”

“We have to get you back on the battlefield. Then we wait.” Fordola watched as (Y/N) sat at her desk, and began to write.

“I’ll give you a letter to take back to him. What excuse are you going to give Krile?”

Fordola shrugged. “I… hadn’t really considered. Do you have any ideas?”

(Y/N) glanced at Olivier, who said, “He attempted to enlist you to spy for him. You came to warn me that he was trying to get spies into (Y/N)’s household so I’d be on the lookout. I suggested you should pretend to accept his offer, and be a double agent.”

The Empress nodded. “Krile will want to move me, then, to a new location.”

“I’ll handle that,” Olivier said. “Fordola, keep in close contact with me. I’ll make arrangements for more regular drops.”

Tossing a bit of pounce over the finished letter, (Y/N) shook it out, and handed it to Fordola. “There. I’ve included a bit about you acting as a double agent, so he can give you information as well. Krile will quickly lose patience if none of your leads pan out.”

Fordola avoided reading it, merely folded it and tucked it into her armor.

* * *

Aulus mal Asina sat at his desk, idly reviewing reports from the Medici assigned to the various Legions, rubber stamping requests for more supplies, when a soldier came into his office and stomped a formal salute. “His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Solus zos Galvus.”

With a sigh he gripped the wheels of his chair, pulling himself back and away from his desk before gliding smoothly around. He could no longer stand to greet his emperor, but he placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head.

“At ease, Aulus,” Solus said, leaning on the desk. “How are you liking your position?”

Aulus glanced askance, but said nothing. He was already at the pinnacle of his career, Praefectus Medicorum. There was nowhere for him to go but down.

“Don’t be shy, Aulus,” the Emperor goaded. “I’m here to make you an offer, not a threat.”

Aulus raised an eyebrow. “I have reached the pinnacle of my career, your Imperial Majesty. There is nothing else I could desire.”

Solus raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about the woman called Fordola rem Lupus?”

“She was a research subject. I made her Resonant to see how it would work before performing the same operation on Prince Zenos.” He did not tell the Emperor the rest. None of the more… personal details would matter. “Last I heard she had defected and joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

“And what if she hadn’t?” Aulus knew by his words that he was being assessed. 

“Then she would still be serving the empire, with maybe one more promotion in her future before she reached the pinnacle of what a non-Garlean can.”

Solus sighed. “You’re being evasive. I don’t like it.”

Aulus felt his eyebrows climb of their own accord. “I’m not sure of the reason for this line of questioning, Sire. If you could give me more context, I could give you more satisfactory answers.”

“Do you want her?”

“Fordola?” He tried not to think about her. Tried not to remember the feeling of having a subject so… _exquisite_ look at him with such ferocity. “What I want is irrelevant. She is not Garlean, thus I cannot allow myself such indulgences. It would be inappropriate to the rank the Imperial Family has so generously granted me.”

“Is that what you told _her_?” The Emperor was smirking. Perhaps he had given too much away. “I’ll tell you something, Aulus. I recently met Fordola rem Lupus, and she is doing me a personal favor that involves putting herself at great risk. I told her she could name her price. Do you know what she asked for?”

“A promotion?” She was always so focused on clearing a path for her people within Garlemald.

The Emperor shook his head. “She asked for you. Knowing what I am, the sheer breadth of my power, and I told her, to her face, she could have _anything_ she wanted, and I would give it to her, gladly, for the work she is doing. And she asked for _you_.” Solus’s smile widened. “So I ask you again, Aulus, to answer me honestly: What do you think of Fordola rem Lupus?”

“She is driven,” Aulus replied, trying to keep his voice even, despite the shock of knowing she still thought of him, like he still thought of her. “And she allowed all manner of experimentation because she believed it would bring her closer to her goals. Fordola committed what her people would consider atrocities in pursuit of her desires. I think that if she has set her sights on me, I should be glad that I already have some amount of attraction to her, as it will be easier to submit to her whims than fight against her for the rest of my days.”

“Very well,” Solus stood. “You will come to the front lines and handle the Medici personally.”

Aulus glanced pointedly down at his wheelchair.

“Don’t you have one that levitates?” the Emperor asked.

“The Warrior of Light broke it when she nearly killed me.” Aulus shrugged. “But I could have another made.”

“Then do it,” With that, the Emperor strode out of the room.


	17. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) enters the fray.

The initial skirmishes were simple enough affairs. Raubahn Aldynn, the leader of the Ala Mhigan armies, was not a man to be trifled with, but his people were still weary and bloody from decades of Garlean Occupation and their recent rebellion, while the Empire came with better weapons, fresh troops, and Solus zos Galvus himself as the master strategist. A green boy is a green boy, but a green boy with an axe is no match for a green boy with a magitek rifle at 50 yalms.

The Ala Mhigan morale had been tenuous to start, but now, as his armies swept through Gyr Abania with precision, he saw them break faster and faster with each step he took. Soon, whole villages would capitulate as they approached, offering no resistance.

Solus ensured that anyone who immediately surrendered upon their arrival was treated well. Enlistment was offered to all who qualified, so every unmolested village brought a new unit or two, at the minimum, into his service. Those new soldiers were swept up in his great engine of war, and soon found themselves with a rifle in their hand, and promises of prosperity for their loved ones.

The hardest part of the whole thing was doing away with a near-century of structural xenophobia. Aulus’s comments regarding Fordola being ‘inappropriate’ had reminded him that (Y/N) was not Garlean either, and a number of people would object to that. The entirety of his pro-Garlean agenda would need to be excised, and with some alacrity, or a lot of people were going to die the moment they spoke ill of their Empress. She was _his_ to harm, to insult, to break, and no one else could be permitted the attempt.

And so he began with the military. If a non-Garlean was in a unit, the whole unit was paid more, and then made transfers out of the new unit very difficult, requiring the approval of multiple people within the chain of command. Soon units, even veteran units of multiple years, were actively courting outsiders to join them, and doing what they could to keep them in the unit and alive. He also issued promotions, many of those ‘outsider’ tribuni who had climbed to the top of what had been available over the last few years found themselves Legati, to accommodate the influx of new soldiers. While some of the older Legati balked at this decision, he made it clear that if Garlemald was to survive, the short-sighted policies of his mortality must be undone. 

That didn’t stop the grumbling, or the pettiness, not completely.

Still, the pieces were moving, the plan in place. Aulus came to the front lines, his new levitating chair quite the marvel, and soon after, Fordola arrived with information, and, much to his delight, a proper letter.

The attraction between the two was obvious, though awkward, so Solus left them alone and sought his own privacy to read the letter from his wife.

>   
_Hades,_
> 
> _I despise you. I miss you terribly, and despise you for leaving so soon. I despise you for not taking me with you, even though it is what I asked for. I despise you for not coming to see me at all this last year, even though my manor is heavily guarded. I hope you are as miserable as I am. I hope your bed is cold. I hope you find no solace in your dreams. I hope your food tastes like ash. I can’t even enjoy cherry pastries anymore, and it is all your fault. How dare you treat me so cruelly, after all your words of love? I will make you suffer for it._
> 
> _The news of this war is tearing me asunder. I hear of your victories and weep for my friends. I hear of your victories and my heart thrills within my chest, knowing you are one step closer to my door. Will I ever wake beside you again? Or am I merely the excuse you are using to clean up after that wretched great-grandson of yours? He was a miserable failure, even at the end. I hope he rots, and I hope you rot for bringing him into this world, even indirectly._
> 
> _I want to see you. Fordola tells me there is a plan, but I don’t even know what it is and already it is too slow for my liking. Have you found some other woman to keep you occupied? Is that why you tarry so in a broken nation rather than taking on a real opponent? I will find her, cut out her heart in front of you, and make you eat it. You told me I belong to you, and so I have turned a blind eye to the handsome men and beautiful women Krile brings to visit, but mayhaps I should fuck them all just to show you my displeasure. You told me you belong to me, and so if I ever hear a whisper of another in your bed, I will kill them, and I will make you watch. I will make you lick their blood from my fingers and beg for my forgiveness._
> 
> _Why have you done this to me? Before Amaurot, before _you_, everything made sense. It was easy. Now I lie awake at night and wail for you, for my friends, for what was and what may one day be. Krile took my soulstones, else I would have chased after you in a heartbeat, to beat you bloody and drag you back to my side, consequences be damned. I defeated you once at the height of your power, I will do so again._
> 
> _I hope you are ready to suffer, you vile wretch. Once they put me in the field I will undo all your pretty victories. I will drive your army back into Garlemald. I will make you beg me, on your knees, for the smallest victories, and I will deny you. You will have nothing from me but shame and defeat until you give me what you promised._
> 
> _Did you know that Fordola is the only person to have ever called me ‘Empress’? For all that I am the wife of Emperor Solus zos Galvus of the Eternal Empire of Garlemald, none come to curry my favor. None come to entreat me to sway you to their cause. Your Empress is under house arrest, guarded day and night by your enemies, and you have wasted nearly a year playing at soldiers rather than moving to free her. If this is the vaunted Garlean loyalty, the Amaurotine devotion you whispered to me in our nights together, then you may keep it. So far it has been nothing but dust and ashes and I hate it._
> 
> _Olivier has hatched a plot where Fordola will serve as a double agent, feeding information to both sides so as to ensure that we may continue to send letters. Give her some good information to provide to Krile so that wretched woman will not suspect her. And give her some token of your affection to be passed on to me, that I might have as proof that you are still faithful._
> 
> _Until you have capitulated to my demands, I remain,_
> 
> _(Y/N)_   


  
Hades’s heart was beating faster, now, and he trembled for her like the page in his hand. (Y/N) was suffering. Suffering because of him. She longed for him, she missed him. In every stroke of her angry words he felt how passionately she loved him, how truly she was _his._ Every ounce of his self-control was poured into resisting the urge - every fiber of his being saying to go to her and claim her now.

No. Not yet. (Y/N) would suffer for him, and the Source would suffer for her despair. 

“My (Y/N),” he whispered. “The source of all my joy. The source of all my woes.” He ransacked his desk to find paper, pen, and ink, and began his reply.

* * *

When Solus returned to the command tent, Aulus was straightening his cravat, blushing at Fordola with an intensity that revealed their activities more than anything else possibly could. 

“I take it you two have come to an agreement?” he raised his eyebrow to Fordola. “One that is amenable to you?”

Aulus coughed, and placed his hand on his chest, bowing. “Your Imperial Majesty. I would like to formally request special dispensation to -”

“Granted,” he said, not waiting for the man to finish. “Fordola, would you deliver this to my wife?” He held out the letter, sealed in an envelope, _’(Y/N)’_ scrawled in his own aggressive script across the front.

“W-Wife?” Aulus asked. “Sire, I did not…”

Fordola took the letter and tucked it away into her armor. “It’s why he has no qualms about us. What do you think this war is for?”

Aulus’s brow wrinkled. “The Warrior of…” His eyes widened in shock. “You’ve _married_ her?”

“This entire war is so that they will not attempt to claw my empress from my grasp. They’ve already come between us once.”

Fordola shrugged. “The Empress wants it a secret though. Apparently there’s to be a large Imperial wedding.”

Aulus rubbed his head. “The Legati will not be pleased.”

Solus snorted. “Why does their opinion matter?”

“Because they’ve been grooming their daughters for the past year to _become_ your Empress. Only to find, pardon me for saying this so bluntly, Sire, that you’ve married an outsider - an Eorzean (R/N) - who has orchestrated the Empire’s defeat at every turn?” He reached for Fordola’s hand and squeezed it. “I would expect some pushback from that quarter.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I will deal with insubordination in the same manner I always have.” He looked over the command table. “Anything to report, Fordola? (Y/N) tells me you’ll be acting as a double agent.”

Fordola saluted. “Olivier’s cover story he provided me, that you’re attempting to get spies into her household, was accepted. She was to be moved from the Goblet to Mor Dhona. However, both Lyse and Raubahn have petitioned to have her come to the front lines, lest the revolution be undone. When I left, I was given orders to tell you she is being moved to Mor Dhona by land, as was the original plan, in case you had other spies in their midst. However, she is going to be moved to Ala Mhigo by ship, past the Mazlaya and the Pearl.” She sighed. “Krile doesn’t trust me enough to let me feed you accurate information yet.”

Hades stared at the map in front of him for a long time, wheels turning in his head. “Tell them we are going to attack the convoy to Mor Dhona. That will force them to divert some forces to a decoy. I will join that party, and make a large show of my presence. I’ll have airships patrol the Rothlyt Sound, who will open fire on the ships as they approach, since I am assumed to believe she is not there, everyone on those ships must be hostile.”

Fordola and Aulus shared a concerned glance. “But… the Empress will be _on_ one of those ships.”

“Yes,” he said, “And she can breathe water.”

* * *

The convoy didn’t stand a chance. Whomever was commanding this operation had picked poorly trained militiamen to make the journey, felled near instantaneously by the unit of soldiers he had brought along. Of course, (Y/N) wasn’t there, but he made a grand show of searching the caravan, calling her name, hoping whatever scouts they had watching would take it as legitimate. Finally, he turned to the Tribunus in charge of these men, a callow Garlean youth.

“Take the men to what remains of Castrum Centri. I will return shortly, once I’ve reconvened with the Legati.”

The boy saluted, and Solus called the void to himself, vanishing into the Rift, to re-emerge on the Ala Mhigan shore. He watched as the Airships hammered the ships, and waited.

The canons on the ships barked, but only a few could reach the angle to attack the airships. They would die, every last Eorzean, long before they reached safe harbor - unless Krile gave his bride the ability to defend them by returning her soulstones. He sought her out amidst the chaos, his beloved (Y/N), and broke into a grin as aether flared about her, and she shot up from the deck of the ship, clad in armor, a dragoon’s lance in one hand, and landed on the nose of the nearest airship.

Hades did not even care for the expense, or the lost lives as she decimated his fleet. The sight of her in battle, ravenous and radiant, this fearsome avatar of Hydaelyn, made his heart pound within his chest. He wanted to go to her - to tear her from the sky and back down to these realms of mortal men, to strip the armor from her and have her in the surf. He did not care. He did not care. 

But she did, and that is what stayed his hand. His beloved, his bride, his empress, his (Y/N) wanted to have her cake and eat it too, and he would give it to her or die trying. She deserved nothing less, no matter what misery it brought. 

When the Legati finally gave the order to pull back, she leapt away, and he watched as she let herself fall, plummeting to the sea with all the weight of her destiny, amidst the broken shells of the airships she had sundered as easily as she had sundered him in Amaurot. Just before she hit the water, their eyes met, for the briefest moment, and then she was lost beneath the waves.

Hades rushed into the water, swimming past floating wreckage and bodies as quickly as he could, heading for her. They could not be seen together, not yet. She could not be ‘unaccounted for’ until the war picked up properly. But here, now, this was what he could give her. A stolen moment amidst the carnage.

When he found her, he pulled her into his arms, in the same flickering, undersea light as Amaurot. She could breathe beneath the sea, and it would take more than simple drowning to kill him. Their lips met, and all he could taste was salt, but he did not care. (Y/N) was in his arms again, she was responding to him again, she was touching him again. How long did they have until she was expected to surface? He did not know, so he would steal what moments he could.

They could not speak, or hear each other beneath the waves, and so he did not waste time trying to tell her everything he wanted to say. The letters Fordola would bring her would do that. Instead, he touched her, all the ways she liked. His hands in her hair, his lips on her skin, pressing himself against her wherever he could reach through her armor. He wanted to strip her and have her right then, but he would not be satisfied with what few moments they could steal. His wife was with him, and everything had been worth it.

Too soon, far too soon, she pulled away, and pointed towards the surface. Towards the remains of the Eorzean fleet. He knew she had to go, but she took one last moment to reach up, and brush his earring, the twin of the one he had given her last year, and then placed her hand over her heart. Then she was gone, lost amidst the dark seas and the wreckage of his airships.

* * *

Olivier visibly relaxed as (Y/N) surfaced, grabbing a rope on the side of the ship and climbing back onto the deck. He moved to her side, helping her up, and pushed her hair out of her face. “You’re too pale, my lady.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, but clung to the edge of the deck regardless. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “Keep me away from Krile for a bit.”

The Elezen nodded, and swept (Y/N) into his arms. “She’s ill,” he told the nearest soldier. “If they’re looking for her, I took her to her chambers.” He carried her below decks, past anxious soldiers and supplies for Ala Mhigo, to the small room that had been set aside to be her cell on the trip.

Once inside she pulled off her armor, replacing it with a simple nightgown, and crawled into the bed, Olivier picked up a book. “Is there anything else you need, my lady?”

“Keep them away,” she whispered, her throat raw. “I don’t want to see anyone until tomorrow.” In response to his raised eyebrow, she whispered, “Today is our anniversary.”

He nodded, and kept vigil outside her bedroom door, but it was not necessary. The sound of her endless weeping was enough to keep them away.

* * *

As Hades brought the last men of the unit he’d left in Castrum Centri home, he stumbled upon Seneca van Sergius. The Legatus saluted formally. “Sire.”

He took a moment, and let himself stop being Hades, slipping back into the armor of Solus zos Galvus, then spoke. “You mentioned you have daughters, Seneca.”

“I do, Sire.” He nodded sharply.

“I assume that means you have a wife?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” Seneca tilted his head in slight confusion.

“How do you handle it? Being away from her for so long?” Solus asked. 

“Personally, Sire? I kill people.” The words stopped Solus in his tracks. 

“You what?”

“Kill people. Defectors, traitors, enemy combatants. I didn’t get where I am by being kind, if you’ll forgive me. I remind myself that it is only when the Empire is unquestionably victorious that I might return to see her, and their actions have directly caused that to be delayed.” Seneca shrugged. “It doesn’t really get me home faster, but it certainly makes me feel better, Sire.”

Solus remembered all those villages he had destroyed. Every time he had found her, but she had not been his to take. That had been petty malice. But this…

“Seneca, you have given me an idea, for which I am most grateful. I would reward you.” He turned to the man. “I cannot give you another promotion, I fear, but if there is anything I could do to show my gratitude…”

Seneca laughed. “Tell me her name, Sire.” Solus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, so the man continued. “I would know the name of the woman who has you so enamored that -” The Legatus froze, and understanding flooded his face, then he turned, and looked towards the city they had been steadily approaching for weeks. “Nevermind that, Sire. I would suggest you give them a day of warning. Give them the chance to capitulate. We both know they won’t, but…”

“But if I am to be justified before the Warrior of Light, I must give them the opportunity.” Solus nodded.

An hour later, a messenger bearing the white flag of parley handed a message to General Raubahn Aldynn.

>   
_General Aldynn,_
> 
> _You have until sundown tomorrow to deliver the Warrior of Light, (Y/N) (L/N), to the Imperial Camp. If you fail to do so, I will sack Ala Mhigo, and re-establish Imperial control._
> 
> _Emperor Solus zos Galvus_   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter's gonna have gore and smut, so be warned.


	18. The Fall of Ala Mhigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus begins his attack on the city, and his reunion with his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF! This chapter ended up way longer than initially intended, so I had to do some cutting. Not as gory as I'd planned, initially, but I'd still keep an eye out if that bothers you. Even after cutting, this is still a longer chapter, so I hope you like it! Please review if you are so inclined, feedback really encourages me. <3

“If she _wants_ to go to him, why don’t you _let_ her!?”

Raubahn’s shouting echoed through the halls of the Ala Mhigan palace, but Olivier, a few steps away from the man, closed his eyes. Raubahn, Lyse, and Krile had been arguing for the better part of an hour. Initially, Lyse and Raubahn, believing (Y/N) to be wanted as a prisoner, also agreed that actually handing her over would be unacceptable. But, a discreet word and subtle turn of phrase on his own part had made them realize that their enemy and (Y/N) were lovers. Soon, things came to a head, and the three of them were screaming at each other. 

Raubahn believed that if Solus and (Y/N) _wanted_ to be together, that was the end of the discussion. Whilst he agreed that it was not a good or healthy match for either of them, at the end of the day, the Warrior of Light had been a good friend to both himself and the Sultana, and he would not throw that friendship in her face by removing her personal agency.

Lyse, while feeling terribly sorry for (Y/N), admitted that she couldn’t in good conscience let her friend make a bad choice without trying to stop her. So she tended to side with Krile. But some of Krile’s more venomous words, outright implying (Y/N) was trying to _betray_ them by loving the Garlean Emperor, would push Lyse away. 

And Krile, of course, was Krile. The woman seemed in some maddened pursuit of keeping the lovers apart, and it disturbed Olivier. Elidibus’s plan required that they be kept _together._ And the Lalafell was getting in the way of that.

* * *

The Emperor of Garlemald watched as the sun slipped behind the mountains, and the stars, one by one, sparkled at him from above. He stared up at them for a few moments, remembering what (Y/N) had said on the edge of the fountain. The clear night sky made her homesick. As he stared up, Hades was homesick, too. Those glittering lights, so like the sparkling aetherial sky of Amaurot, called out to both of them.

A soft cough sounded behind him, and one of Sergius’s secretaries saluted. “Emperor Solus. The men are waiting.”

He turned to see his Legions arrayed before him, all standing at attention, locked in the Imperial Salute. The time had come to make his move.

The secretary pointed to the microphone standing before him, and he gave a short nod, letting the man know he was ready. He felt the hum of aether as it flowed through the wires, cables, and crystals around them, amplifying his voice for the military.

“My Legions!” he cried, and the single, unified echo of “SIRE!” from the men before him caused that familiar lust for violence to rise. He realized Seneca was right - this would make him feel better.

“Long ago, when I founded this… glorious _empire_...” the men cheered, “... I told you to forsake false gods! To disavow those loathsome beings that would offer you no true succor, no assistance in your times of need. And you, my legions, had faith in _me_, and did.” He held out his arms, a gesture of thanks and friendship, and they cheered.

“When I returned from the vale of death, and took my throne from my debauched descendants, I told you _I_ was a god. I asked you to have faith in _me_. You did.” The cheering redoubled, and Solus leaned his head back, revelling in his power.

When they quieted again, he faced the crowd, and continued. “Now, my Legions, I tell you something else. I am not a false god, with false promises. I have promised you victory, and tonight, you will see your faith rewarded.” He raised one arm, and snapped, causing the crystals projecting his voice to shatter - yet when he spoke, his voice was still projected, still audible to every soldier on the field. “I ask you to have faith in _me_, and you are loyal men! You will.” Their answering roar and pounding of their shields took his breath away.

“Tonight, some of you will die. And I swear to you, each and every one - if you find yourself within that void - return to us. I will welcome you as a brother to my halls, even if it takes a thousand, thousand lifetimes.” They cheered again, and it soon resolved itself into a chant - ‘Solus! Solus! Solus!’ - again and again, rolling over the mountains.

* * *

“I’ll go with her,” Fordola offered. “I’m the only one he won’t kill on sight.”

“But he’ll just kill you when you refuse to hand her over,” Lyse said.

“Maybe, but I’ll at least have a fighting chance,” she replied.

Krile scowled. “I don’t think we should field her at all. It’s too risky.”

“So when it’s your life on the line, it’s fine?” Raubahn thundered, “But when Ala Mhigo might very well fall, it’s _too risky_? Did you forget that he’s an _Ascian_ now?”

“Will she even fight for _you_, Iron Bull? Or will she just run to his side?”

“Mayhap, if you let us speak with her, we could _ask_!” He slammed his fist on the table, the map of the city spread across the middle. “For all we know, she wants to stop him! She could move across that field right now, and end this bloody war before my people are being crushed under an imperial boot again!”

“We can’t let him have her,” Krile argued, but finally, Olivier was sick of it. 

“If you do not field (Y/N),” he said, “Then the battle is lost. If you field her, and she runs to him, you’ve at least bought time. If you field her, and she fights against him, he will be so distracted trying to capture her that he might make mistakes.” The Elezen looked down at his nails. “But I think you should talk to Lady (Y/N). She is a _person_, with feelings, and frankly, her patience with all of this is starting to run thin.”

Raubahn and Lyse nodded, and Lyse said, “We should, at least, speak with her.”

Krile leaned back in her chair, dejected. “Send for her.”

Olivier bowed, and headed out the door.

* * *

“Are you ready, my love?” Hades whispered to the empty air. He remembered the last time he had asked that of her - the last time they had spoken, in her ruined bedroom.

Seneca van Sergius approached, and saluted. “What is the plan, Sire?”

“Standard frontal assault, nothing unusual for this first engagement. I’ll do most of the work.” He looked back at Seneca, and grinned. “After all, this is more for me than you. But if you’d like some advice - when my beloved takes the field, avoid her.”

“So my suspicions were accurate. I assume this information is classified, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“Technically, but I would not be disturbed if rumors of my ardor for her were to be spread.” He gave a quick nod to the last Legion, signalling they were prepared. “Our people must accept their Empress, when I crown her. Are you ready, Seneca?”

The Legati saluted. “I am, Sire.”

“Well then,” Emperor Solus raised one hand in the air. “Time to take back my city.” He snapped his fingers, and every light, lantern and candle in Ala Mhigo went out.

* * *

“And everything is in motion?” (Y/N) asked, following in Olivier’s wake as he lead her through the palace. “Are you sure you will be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he snapped, lengthening his stride. He could feel the tension gathering in the air. “I cannot express how much you _owe me_.”

“You know he will give you anything you -” the Warrior of Light’s voice stilled as a soft sigh seemed to pass through the palace, extinguishing all the candles and lanterns, the only light what little the stars and moon offered through the glass windows.

They entered the council chambers, and the others began speaking, but (Y/N) walked passed them, unhearing, and opened the doors onto the balcony, and looked up toward the night sky. Only Olivier was close enough to hear her words, heart-sick and full of longing.

“Hades. You remembered.”

* * *

Solus swaggered at the center of the front lines, drunk on power. His army marched in lock step behind him. Archers on the walls fired, again and again, their arrows bouncing harmlessly off the shield he placed over the army. When they approached the gate of Ala Mhigo, he stopped, and raised one hand. His men stilled behind him.

“General Aldynn!” He called, rocking back on his heels in excitement. “I believe you have something of _mine_!” The arrows ceased.

Rather than the large man, (Y/N)’s (R/N) silhouette appeared atop the gate, clad in her armor, her lance in hand. “Hello, Solus!” She said, and he could see a playful grin on her face. “Looking for me?”

“My Lady,” he bowed respectfully. “I’ve come to call upon you, but your guardians seem most reticent to let me see you.”

“You’ve brought so many friends. We don’t have room for them in Ala Mhigo.” His heart pounded in his chest, thrilled with the flirtation. “Why don’t you take them back to Garlemald, then come speak with me alone.”

“Make me,” Solus challenged, and spread his arms wide. “Do your worst, (Y/N).”

“Again?” She stepped up onto the edge of the parapet, and for a single moment the moonlight caught the pearl that dangled from her right ear. “Haven’t I already made you look the fool? An army to retrieve _one_ woman?”

“When that woman is the Warrior of Light, an army is the least you can do.” He blew her a kiss. He could flirt like this for hours, but he could sense the troops becoming restless. “But I will have you, _woman_. One way or another.” 

(Y/N) pulled her helmet out from beneath her arm. “We shall see.” Palming it in one hand, she slid it down over her head, and snapped it in place. 

“Archers!” Raubahn Aldynn’s voice echoed. “Ready!”

Hades heard the quiet groan as a thousand bows were pulled taut. On the parapet, his wife crouched, strength coiling in the muscles of her legs.

“Aim!”

His men stood unmoving, but (Y/N) span her lance in her hand into a position to strike. He analyzed her movements, and realized she was aiming for Seneca. He liked that man, so he made a vague, barely noticeable gesture, and in response the point of her lance drifted ever so slightly to the right, pointing towards Otho. He nodded softly, and she did as well. The archers on the walls raised their bows, prepared for the next, inevitable command.

“Fire!”

The Garlean army braced for another hail of arrows, but instead, (Y/N) shot into the air, and hung for a moment, silhouetted by the moon. _Oh, my darling,_ Hades thought, staring at her with open longing, _I will make you a legend, tonight._ Then she descended, breaking through his aetheric shield, the point of her lance catching Otho in the abdomen, tearing him open like a paper parcel, the contents - his internal organs and life’s blood - spilling out onto the ground beneath her.

_Call my wife ‘a mad dog’, will you?_ Hades thought smugly, while his men stared in mute horror that someone could get through their Emperor’s proven shield.

“NOW!” Raubahn’s voice echoed, and arrows fell on the legions, killing those men who were too slow or too stupid to defend themselves.

* * *

Fordola watched from the battlements as (Y/N) rose and fell into the Garlean infantry again and again. It was almost time to put Hades’s plan into action. She glanced beside her to Olivier, who had squeezed into some Dragoon’s armor, hastily dyed to match (Y/N)’s, with a lance at his side. “Are you ready?”

“Are we ever?” He asked. Then (Y/N) gave the signal.

The Ascian’s unnaturally projected voice issued another order, and the army began to march forward. With a snap of his fingers, he tore the wooden gates off their hinges, letting them tumble in the wind like autumn leaves. The Warrior of Light moved with them, killing the soldiers without warning or mercy, until she landed beside Olivier, just as they’d discussed, and he leapt into the air, taking her place, though missing every shot. But it would be enough to distract Krile, watching from the Palace steps.

Fordola grabbed (Y/N)’s hand. “Come on, Empress (Y/N).”

The (R/N) grinned, and followed, letting a wash of aether trade her armor for the hooded robes of a white mage. They slipped around the outer walls of the city, climbing over rocks and keeping to the shadows, until they found a small grille in one wall, near rusted over from disuse. It shrieked and groaned as Hades opened it from the inside.

He was on (Y/N) in an instant, and kissed her with such blatant need that Fordola took a step back and averted her eyes. She mentally thanked the Warrior of Light when she said, “Not here. Take me somewhere better than this.” 

He nodded, and glanced at Fordola. “Come along.” A purple swirl of void appeared beside him, and Fordola stepped through, to be followed by the Ascian, tugging (Y/N) by her wrist.

* * *

Leaving Fordola outside the medical tent, Hades dragged (Y/N) into the command tent, barely waiting for the flap to close before he caught her lips with his, hungry again. She responded eagerly, shrugging out of her robe while his fingernails dragged over her skin. They did not have long, but Zodiark, he was going to have his wife - the one woman he could enjoy without fear or guilt or despair.

He pushed her body back onto the war table, scattering the little figurines hither and yon while he climbed atop her, uncaring for anything else. She was the ultimate goal, the prize of this whole campaign, and he had underlings to right whatever she wronged. He tore her panties off of her and left the ragged remains on the ground, willing away his armor with a snap of his fingers and lowering his lips to hers.

“(Y/N),” Hades whispered, “Give yourself to me.” His voice was half whine and half command, but all desperation. She laughed, and lifted her hips, and after a few awkward fumbles he was inside her, crushing her between himself and all his vaunted plans. Nothing - none of it - mattered, not when (Y/N) was his.

At first, she was rigid, and he almost feared she was unwilling, and stilled, but her fingers caught his hair, and she whispered, “I need this.” 

Hades went a bit slower, then, watching her face and caressing her skin, and she started to relax. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, feeling himself start to go soft. He only wanted this if she did, even if he wanted to be rough. Their reunion wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“It’s nothing,” she said, then shook her head. “It’s my first time since…” (Y/N) closed her eyes, “And the Menageries are _right there_.”

He ran a finger down the side of her face, and curled it in to run his knuckles along her jaw. “Tell me what you need.”

She leaned her head back. “I need it to hurt.”

“What?” his brow furrowed, but he didn’t move. “Explain.”

She took a steadying breath. “I need you to hurt me worse than he did. I need you to be rough, I need it to be painful. Because I will forgive _you_, and if I forgive you something worse than what he did, then he is nothing. What he did is nothing. And then you can be gentle with me and love me still, and I will be alright.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning over her. “I will do this, if you want me to, but…” Hades glanced askance for a moment. “You have never reacted well to what I am, that I am an Ascian. I wear Solus’s pretty face for your comfort, and that of others.” He looked back, weighing her reactions. “But as I told you once before, I am a sorcerer of eld, more ancient than anything else in this wretched, sundered hell. That is what you are asking for. So I ask again, are you sure?”

(Y/N) took another deep breath, then opened her eyes and nodded. “It is better this way. Besides, I am the wife of Hades, the Amaurotine, the Ascian, the Architect. It is only fitting that I should have my husband _completely_ unmasked.”

He grinned at that, and kissed her softly. “My apologies in advance, my dear.” Then he shucked his constraining mortal form to swath himself in darkness, until he towered over her as he had once before, when she had gone on to sunder him. She stared at him for a few moments, her face full of such exquisite despair, then reached for his mask.

* * *

Olivier hit the ground, panting hard, blood spattered across his armor. “How the fuck does she do this?” he asked, spitting onto the dirt and wiping his mouth. “I can’t keep this up for long.”

* * *

The Warrior of Light kept _missing_. After the first few kills - and Seneca had been quite sure it had been her that slew Otho, impaling him on her Ishgardian lance and leaving his viscera in the dirt - she began to miss, over and over. 

He watched her form, watched her land amongst the men, who scattered in a circle at her descent, and realized it was too long, too coiled. That realization was immediately followed by another, darker realization.

_We are not the war at all - we are the distraction._

He had no idea where the Warrior of Light or his emperor were, but he hoped for all their sakes that they were together.

* * *

Fordola followed nervously in Aulus’s wake as he examined the injured in the medical tent. She had arrived, just like Solus had promised and Aulus had requested, but he just… went about his work. The only acknowledgement she received was the occasional “Do keep up,” if she lagged too far behind him.

Finally, after the last bed, he turned, and led her out of the medical tent toward the more private officers tents. He approached one, and led her in. It held little save a large bed, and a few railings to help him get in and out. He gestured to it. “Take a seat, Fordola.”

She sat, a little irritated to have been kept waiting so long, and opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand. “It is time you and I had an important conversation, regarding our marriage. We must determine what _type_ of relationship it is to be.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“Well, you are the one who requested me as your reward from the Emperor.” He reached over and took her hand, and brought his lips. “Tell me what your goals were with that request.”

Her face hurt from how hard she blushed.

* * *

(Y/N) was so small, so fragile, a little (R/N) caught beneath him on the war table, _so small_ he could easily wrap one hand around her throat. She had been surprised to see that he had not embellished the true height of the Amaurotines, and his heart filled with quiet delight when she ran her fingers through his hair, long and white and soft as down. But she had asked for him to hurt her, and he yearned for her tears.

The problem came when he tried to actually enact her wish. Hades would reach for her, imagining her tear stained face, her blood, and it would excite him, only for his own body to disobey him just before he touched her. His mind would lock up, like a wrench had been left unattended in the gears, and be unable to function until he pulled away again.

“Hades?” she whispered, and he felt her hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin, smearing tears he had not known were there. “What is it?”

“You are…” He ran one hand, gently, down the side of her face, along her neck, letting his long nails drag along her skin, feeling the fluttering pulse beneath. “You are like a hummingbird, (Y/N). Beautiful, tiny…” His breath caught as she leaned into his touch. “But too delicate. I cannot bring myself to harm you.”

“Why not?” She asked, and her hand slid down his neck to his chest, coming to rest over his heart. 

He lifted his hand to hers, and clasped it there. “You know why.”

“Maybe,” her reply was playful, and warm, and reminded him of those precious nights in the Goblet. “But I want to hear you say it. I want you to admit it, both to me, and yourself.”

* * *

Seneca van Sergius raised his hand, and his standard bearer called for a halt. _The Emperor wants this city, and a distraction. I will give him both._

One of the Tribuni ran up beside him and saluted. “Lord Seneca?”

“Load up the cannons, and reform the men into a column, five abreast. We’re going to take the Palace.”

* * *

“I am not cruel, Fordola,” Aulus whispered, his breath tickling the skin of her hand. “And I would be lying if I said I did not want this, too. But you are the one who has bought _me_, not the other way around, and I will not be so disloyal to the Empire as to not give you your due.” He smiled, affable, charming, and entirely too wicked. “So, I would like to know what you envision for our relationship.”

“I…” Her entire body was going to combust. “I don’t…” 

His free hand gripped the bar along the side of the bed and he pulled himself partway out of the chair, leaning towards her. Fordola’s eyes focused on his arm, the way the muscles moved beneath his pristine white shirt. Their movement was the only warning she had before his breath rippled through her hair, against her ear. “Just because I have been paralyzed does not mean I am _incapable_, Fordola. And you did not know of my condition when you made your request.” She clenched her jaw against the shiver in her spine at the way he drew out that last syllable. “So I ask again - tell me what you want.”

She let out a slow, steadying breath, and put her hand on his. “I didn’t think that far.” 

“Dealer’s choice, then?” Aulus’s breathy chuckle made her heart race. “_Fascinating._”

* * *

“Say it,” (Y/N) commanded, her hand on his heart, every little ilm of her an Empress. “Tell me why you cannot do what I have asked.”

“I want you,” Hades replied, pressing his ancient, yearning lips to her neck. “I want your tears, but not to cause them,” He let his long nails, nearly talons, scrape across the soft flesh of her belly. “I want you to despair for want of me, not because of what I have done,” He bore her down to the table again, all thoughts of the battle it depicted long forgotten. “I love you, (Y/N), and because of that I cannot harm you, not intentionally, not even at your will.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry, but I cannot do this thing you would ask of me.”

She smiled, then, smug and triumphant, and pressed her lips to his, as soft and warm and inviting as she ever had when he wore the mask of Solus. Her hand on his chest clutched at him, and her other arm wrapped about his neck, pulling him closer.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, but followed her lead. “Why could we not before, but now that I have refused your request, you’re warm and willing?”

“I had to be sure,” (Y/N) replied, “I had to be sure you _could not_ hurt me the way he did.” The hand over his heart began to move, her fingertips sliding down his torso towards his cock. “Now, I want my _husband_. Not his mask of Solus zos Galvus.”

He let his hands fall to her body, and lowered his lips to her breasts, eager to begin a task of hers he could complete. She responded eagerly, her hand brushing his shaft while she murmured, “Hades it has been too long. Please.”

“Yes,” he rasped, letting her fingers guide him into her, giving in to the desire to have her completely, to have her as _himself_. “Yes, (Y/N), much too long.” She hissed and gasped as he filled her, his member in this form much larger than the one he used as Solus, but she did not shy away, she did not stop him. Her back arched when he was hilted in her, and she writhed on him, her hands moving to claw at his shoulders and pull him down closer. 

With every thrust, she cried out, barely able to take all of him, but trying so valiantly. Hades braced himself, one hand on the table, and lifted the other, curling his fingers so that he could rub her clitoris with his knuckles to avoid scratching her. Her writhing became more erratic then, and she grabbed at him in desperation, but he had spent two months learning his wife’s body, and every instance was seared into his memory. He had no trouble bringing an orgasm to her. (Y/N)’s body locked down around him, and his ministrations tore his name from her lips in ragged desperate gasps. He let go of his restraint, taking a few more thrusts for himself before he crushed her to the table in his own delightful climax.

(Y/N) whimpered softly as he pulled himself out of her, but he cradled her to his chest amidst the ruins of all his plans. “You’re going to be sore,” he murmured, running the tips of his nails along her skin. “You brought that on yourself.”

“Maybe so,” she replied, drowsily. “Twelve, though, I needed that.” He felt her fingers in his hair again, toying with the long white locks gently.

“You know the Empire will not accept Hades. They follow Solus.” He opened one eye and looked at her, judging her reaction.

“That’s fine,” she replied, rubbing against his shoulder as she found a comfortable spot. “Solus can be my husband for the rest of the world. You said before, I’m the only one allowed the privilege of removing your masks.” 

“True enough,” Hades said, and he kissed her one last time as his true self. “But that mask must come back on, my love. These precious moments we have stolen quickly reach their end, or we will both be missed.”

She nodded, and when their lips met again, he seemed a mortal man, Solus zos Galvus.

* * *

Seneca gave the signal, and his XIIth Legion split into five groups. Two positioned themselves around the outside of the palace, flanking it in lock step, holding off what soldiers and citizens attempted to stop their advance. The next two took to the battlements, coming into the archers raining arrows upon the XIVth and the VIth. He stood with the last contingent, at the base of the stairs leading to the Ala Mhigan palace, and waited for their signal.

“Well, Sergius,” the Emperor said beside him, unexpectedly. “You’ve certainly outdone yourself.”

“Sire.” He saluted instantly, and Solus waved a hand, dismissing it.

“So, what is your game here?”

“We’ve secured the perimeter of the palace, and the walls of the city. We await the signal that our men have captured General Aldynn and the leader of the Rebellion, Lyse Hext.” He stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back. “Then we will move to secure the palace interior.”

A moment later, a woman in the robes of a mage stepped from the portal, and Seneca gambled. He saluted again, just as formally, to be rewarded by the Emperor’s grin. The hood of her robe hid most of her identifying features, but she smiled as well, before dismissing the salute with a nod. He relaxed again, and knew by the soft murmur behind him that his attitudes had done more to start the rumors than any few words ever could.

“Are you ready to return to the stage, my dear?” Solus asked her.

“The Menageries, then.” She replied, and a few men sucked in sharp breaths when their Emperor bowed to her in response. Then she was gone, running through the city in a swirl of anonymity.

“Legatus. If I may make a small deviation to your plan?” The Emperor turned back to Seneca, and he nodded. “Within the palace, you will find a Lalafell in yellow, called Krile. Do not kill her. Bring her to the Menageries, where I will await you.” He floated into the air, and vanished amidst the glittering stars.

* * *

“Thank the Twelve,” Olivier whispered as he saw the moonlight flash of Fordola’s sword, where she met (Y/N) at the postern gate of the city. He was run ragged, and could not keep up her pace.

* * *

Krile raced through the darkened halls of the palace, desperately trying to avoid the Imperial soldiers. It had all gone all _wrong_. (Y/N) had fought, she should have succeeded. She should have held the Legions back. 

Yet still they came, hounding her through the palace, toward the great gates.

Right into the arms of Seneca van Sergius, Legatus of the XIIth Legion.

She hissed, an hour later, as she was thrown to the ground in the Menageries, at the feet of Emperor Solus zos Galvus, the Ascian known as Emet-Selch.

“I have it on good authority,” he said, pacing idly, “that you are the one responsible for keeping the Warrior of Light from me.”

“Hydaelyn will triumph, Ascian,” She responded, ignoring his comment. “Kill me if you like, but She will _destroy_ Zodiark.”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “But not today.”

The soldiers began to murmur, and she turned to see the Warrior of Light, (Y/N), silhouetted by the moon on the roof of the palace. “Emperor Solus!” the (R/N) called. “I believe you have something of mine.”

Krile nearly sobbed in relief. 

“Seize her!” Solus commanded, but she was too fast. 

The Warrior of Light sprang from her position, and landed between the Ascian and the Lalafell. Without a word, (Y/N) grabbed Krile, and leapt into the air again, vanishing into the night.

* * *

_Beyond majestic Mountains, across the Emerald Dale_

The next morning, as dawn broke, the banners of Garlemald unfurled along the walls of the city of Ala Mhigo. The Imperial Anthem was played with great enthusiasm as Emperor Solus zos Galvus entered the throne room of his reclaimed palace.

_On march the ivory standard, United we prevail_

Soldiers packed the room, standing in rigid lines and in perfect salute, as he swaggered up the central aisle to the throne. To one side, Lyse Hext and Raubahn Aldyn fumed, in chains and held at gunpoint by a squadron.

_From distant shores of Othard, to lakes of Aldenard_

Solus turned to face his men with another friendly smile. Though the pomp and ceremony could be tedious, it did much to stir the common hearts, and he must win them - not just his own men, but those who must needs bend to (Y/N)’s will as well.

_The light of mighty Garlemald, For e’er our guiding star_

He took a seat on the throne, and motioned for the musicians to close the song after the first verse. That would be enough, for now.

“My Legions!” he called, and they saluted again, with that echoing “Sire!”

“Has your faith not been rewarded?” Solus cried, and they cheered again. “My indolent descendants, in their hubris, lost the treasure that is Ala Mhigo. I have been back upon my throne less than a year, and already I have returned her to the Imperial Crown.”

The cheering again became a chant of his name, _’Solus! Solus! Solus!’_ but he raised a hand, causing them to quiet. “I have a confession to make to you, my Legions. I did not retake Ala Mhigo just for spite. And our campaign will not end here.” Raubahn’s face twisted in anger, and Lyse’s bound hands went to her mouth, but other than that, no one moved. “I intend to settle Eorzea, from Ala Mhigo to Limsa Lominsa, from Ul'dah to Ishgard, upon my Empress as her dower, to do with as she will. But that is for the future. For now, to Gridania!” 

The Legions cheered again, and Lyse looked like she was going to be sick, but Raubahn shook his head, and whispered, “Oh, (Y/N), what have you done?”


	19. On the Banks of the Velodyna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Garleans and Eorzeans discuss what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter, since the last one was long. I wanted to get this one out before I go to work for the week.

For six weeks, Solus drilled the new recruits they had taken from the city, while his more experienced soldiers were set to providing succor for the Ala Mhigans. He had promised (Y/N) that the Eorzeans would be treated well, and he would not be made a liar before his wife.

Many of the refugees had returned during the country’s year of freedom, and he quickly found jobs for them improving the country’s infrastructure and education systems. The fact that this had not been done before was a misstep on his own part, borne of indolence. Now, however, he had a reason to excel, and his empire needed stability.

“Sire!” The clink of an armored figure going into a full salute pulled him from his plans and calculations.

“Gabranth,” Solus said, and smiled to the Legatus. Noah van Gabranth had been serving as Legatus over the IVth for some time, and had always been a loyal servant of Garlemald. “Thank you for answering my summons so swiftly. Have you been apprised of the situation?”

“From what I have been told, my lord, you seek the capture of the Warrior of Light, and the submission of Eorzea.” 

If the man had any emotional response to the topic at hand, it was lost behind his armored helm. Thus Solus was forced to ask, “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“May I speak frankly, Sire?” The Emperor raised an eyebrow, but motioned for Gabranth to continue. “This is the folly that cost the Black Wolf his life. He both sought to annex these backwards yokels and turn that woman to our cause. And where is he now? Dead and broken in some burned husk of an imperial fortress, as far as I know. While I am more than confident in your ability to see the task complete given your apotheosis, it gives me pause nonetheless.”

Solus looked out over the Velodyna River, towards the massive forest known as the Black Shroud. “Your circumspection is understandable and appreciated, Gabranth, but the task remains.”

“If the question is not too bold, Your Imperial Majesty, I would know why?”

“I have promised that Eorzea will be my Empress’s dower, and even before that, I must give the men a clear, demonstrable sign of my divinity. Capturing Aldenard will do that easily.” He drew a line with his finger from Ala Mhigo to Gridania, then paused contemplating his first major choice.

“And the Warrior of Light?” Gabranth’s question was fair.

“On this, Gaius and I are in agreement.” Solus smiled warmly at his Legatus. “Leaving her in the hands of our enemies is a mistake.”

“So you will kill her?” He heard the subtle clink as Gabranth shifted uncomfortably in his armor.

“No. I have learned too much of life and death to allow that to happen. If she dies she will just be reborn, and we’ll be at this same impasse again in twenty to thirty years when some new Warrior of Light with a different face but the same soul comes calling.”

“She will die, regardless, Sire. One day she _will_ die. Be it illness or old age or childbed or an accident, something will claim her life, eventually. It is inevitable.”

Solus looked down at the map and dug his fingernails into his palm until the knuckles were white and blood welled beneath them. He did not want to think about her death, yet. They’d had so little time together. Leave it to Gabranth’s pragmatism to present a larger problem. He swallowed. “I need time. If I can bring her to Garlemald, and observe her for a prolonged period, I can use my connection to the Underworld to track her. I will find her when she is reborn, still a babe, swaddled in her mother’s arms, and I can ensure she is…”

So many ends to that sentence swirled on the end of his tongue - safe, happy, cherished, loved - but the ending Gabranth supplied caused his jaw to clench. “Bent to your will.” That too, though it damned Solus to admit he wanted it. 

They were wed, now, in the ways of Ancient Amaurot, and he would not suffer another to take his place, even for one mortal lifetime. When she was reborn, he would find her, and he would heap riches and position upon the family that bore her. She would be raised up from her earliest years knowing she was to be an Empress, being prepared to be his bride. And when she was of age he would lay all his triumphs at her feet, and romance her with such devotion as to steal the breath from the very stars. Elidibus had said he wanted her distracted, that he considered Emet-Selch a fair price to remove the Warrior of Light from this game of Rejoinings. Hades was only too happy to oblige him.

“Still,” Solus said, shaking himself from his reverie. “I must capture her first.”

Gabranth saluted. “The IVth Legion stands ready to enact your will, Sire.”

“Good. Now, tell me. How would you take Gridania, when the very trees seek to repel you?”

* * *

Olivier sat beneath a large, sprawling tree, smoking a cigarette, and avoiding the forest commune. Of all the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance, Kan-e-Senna was the most likely to see through his carefully crafted deceptions, and things were still too tenuous for him to be discovered. Besides, no one would miss a servant, even if he was the close companion of the Warrior of Light.

“How is she?” Elidibus asked, appearing near-silently beneath the ancient boughs.

“Well enough, all considered.” Olivier let out a long breath of smoke. “She loves him, you know.”

“I know,” Elidibus said. He looked up through the trees toward the sky, pink and purple with the setting sun. “And he loves her, so at least the hard part’s out of the way.”

Olivier snorted. “For you, mayhap. I still have to manage this entire affair.” He gestured widely, taking in the whole of Eorzea. “I still don’t think I’m ready for it, but you _insisted_.”

“Why not?” Elidibus tilted his head. “You did well before, and one only grows with new challenges.”

“I think she suspects.” The Elezen took another drag off his cigarette.

“Suspects what?” The Ascian’s voice was edged with concern.

“Suspects me. Olivier couldn’t have survived the collapse of the Doman palace, and I think she knows it, at least subconsciously.”

“But Gosetsu and Yotsuyu survived.” Elidibus took a seat on the grass beside him, and took the cigarette from his hand, taking a drag himself, before handing it back.

“Yes, but she didn’t have a close relationship with them.” The Elezen replied. “She was close to Olivier. And all my observation and study can only go so far.”

The Ascian chuckled. “To be honest, I was more worried about Emet-Selch realizing than (Y/N). Has she said anything to you?”

“Not yet, but sometimes I catch her watching me.” 

“That’s not surprising. She’s got him playing this ridiculous game, and they’re turning on her, one by one. (Y/N) doesn’t know who she can trust.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” ‘Olivier’ said sulkily. “It’s ingenious. By forcing them to choose between acting as her friends and acting as heads of state, she’s finding out which see her as a tool and which she can trust. So far the only one to pass with flying colors is Raubahn. Lyse, passed as well, but…”

“But what?” Elidibus replied.

* * *

“There is no reason to turn you over,” Kan-E-Senna said smoothly, “Nor will I permit you to go of your own free will.” 

Fordola winced at the Padjal’s words, and raised an eyebrow toward (Y/N). The (R/N) stared impassively at the Elder Seedseer. Beside her, Merlwyb sighed. “This at least bears some discussion of whether or not we even have the right to refuse her if she wants to make that sacrifice.”

“I see nothing to discuss at all,” Nanamo Ul Namo interjected. “(Y/N) has done more than enough for the people of Eorzea. I will not command anything of her, one way or another.”

“Technically,” Aymeric de Borel, the Lord Speaker of Ishgard, cut in, “As a ward of House Fortemps, (Y/N) falls under the jurisdiction of Ishgard.”

“And how many months will you spend debating the issue?” (Y/N) asked.

Aymeric at least had the good grace to blush. “Fair enough. But I would still ask you to take a walk with me, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

(Y/N) nodded, and glanced to Fordola. The Ala Mhigan waved her off, content to sit in her stead at the council. She watched as the Warrior of Light left the Lotus Stand with the Elezen man, then turned back. 

Krile, who till now had been silent, turned to the Padjal. “Well?”

“Your suspicions are correct,” Kan-E-Senna leaned back in her seat. “We cannot allow this farce to continue.”

“Farce?” Nanamo asked, tilting her head slightly. Though Merlwyb did not speak, it was obvious the Admiral of Limsa Lominsa was paying close attention.

Krile scowled. “(Y/N) and the Emperor are lovers.”

Merlwyb’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

Nanamo gasped, “Then why are we having this conversation? If they want to be together, then they should be.”

The Elder Seedseer shook her head. “We cannot hand our most powerful weapon over to the Garleans. Who _knows_ what the Ascian could convince her to do.”

“But she isn’t _just_ a weapon,” Merlwyb countered. “She is a person, with her own goals and desires. Those must be taken into account.”

“She ceased being a person in her own right when she was Chosen by Hydaelyn,” Krile argued. “It is the price she pays for power.”

“Power she never asked for,” Fordola snorted. “Some capricious crystal’s wishes do not supercede her own.”

Kan-E-Senna shook her head. “The reality of the situation is what it is. She is too powerful to go to Garlemald, circumstances be damned. We cannot stand against their combined might.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Merlwyb asked.

“We must convince her to remain in Eorzea, and prevent the Garlean Occupation.” Kan-E-Senna said. “Or we must kill her, and wait for the Warrior of Light to be reborn.”

“You wouldn’t _dare_,” Fordola said, her hand on the hilt of her sword. She went to draw it, but the Admiral was already standing, a pistol already in her hand.

“I will not suffer our greatest ally to be slaughtered like a dog for following her heart,” Merlwyb said.

“It doesn’t have to come to that,” the Elder Seedseer replied. “We need to make her see reason.”

Nanamo laughed and shook her head. “I have a question: Let’s say she doesn’t bend, and you decide to kill her; who would you even task with the job.”

The table fell silent, and the Sultana nodded. “No one here _can_ stand against her, when she chooses to fight.”

Merlwyb put her pistols away and took her seat, causing Fordola to relax.

Into the silence, Krile said, “Except her friends on the First.”

* * *

Fordola slipped through the trees under the cover of darkness, following the path Olivier had directed her towards: a near-invisible game-trail, with only the scent of his cigarettes near the entrance to tell her it was the right one.

The secret (Y/N) had shared with her, the contents of her parcel, chilled her to the bone, and almost made her laugh hysterically at the cosmic joke - that so much of fate and destiny, history and politics, was guided by naught but mere happenstance. 

The banks of the Velodyna River came up on her suddenly, and she followed its banks in darkness and silence, the new moon providing no illumination, both a blessing and a curse for her clandestine task. She would not be seen, but it would be harder to find her way. Finally, she found the fallen log, bioluminescent fungi along the inside, and climbed atop it, following its twists to the opposite bank. 

As she approached the Garlean camp, its own kind of forest of tents and machinery, a guard she did not recognize raised a hand to stop her. “Who are you?”

“I am Fordola rem Lupus,” she said, pushing off the hood of her cloak. “I am here to see my fiance, Aulus mal Asina.”

“You’re not Garlean,” the guard countered.

Thankfully, his compatriot shook his head. “Asina got special dispensation from the Emperor for her.” The second man waved her through, but she could hear the first continue speaking as she passed.

“Sounds about right. That pervert couldn’t get a proper woman.” 

Fordola’s hand itched with the desire to grab her sword and make him answer for the insult in blood, but she strode onward. Her message was too important.

She made her way to the command tent, and heard voices within. Aulus, a handful of secretaries, a few Legati, and Solus, she reasoned. The guard outside the tent attempted to stop her, but she sidestepped and pushed past him, into the tent. 

“I said you can’t go in-” the guard followed after her, and the men within looked up in outrage, save Aulus and Solus, who merely looked surprised.

“What is the meaning of this?” the nearest man demanded. He was unfamiliar to her, but wore the fine, embellished armor of a Legatus. 

Belatedly, she saluted, and Solus waved his hand dismissively. “She’s Aulus’s fiancee.” He cracked a grin, hoping to lighten the mood, and turned to the Praefectus Medicorum. “I assume she’s here for you. Why don’t you take her in the back and see what’s got her in a tizzy?”

Aulus placed a hand on his chest, bowing to the Emperor, then beckoned for Fordola to follow.

Once they were alone, he whispered, “What are you doing here? There were no -”

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, trying to draw strength from the romance blossoming between them. When she pulled away, his cheeks were flushed, but he was smiling. “Well, I’m glad you came to see me, regardless, but I doubt that’s why you’re here.”

She reached inside her cloak, and pulled out the small hidden package, barely larger than her thumb, a piece of paper wrapped around a vial of blood. “I need to give this to him, immediately.” 

“I can take it -” he began, but she shook her head.

“She was very specific. I was to destroy it rather than let anyone else _touch_ it.”

“What does it say?” Aulus was shocked. 

“I don’t want to speak it aloud. You never know who’s listening. Please. Get him.” Fordola’s hands were shaking.

Aulus frowned, but nodded, and returned to the front half of the tent. While she waited, Fordola settled into a chair, and placed her head between her knees, forcing herself to calm her breathing.

A moment later, the Emperor came in, followed by Aulus, and she stood, giving a shaky, if respectful salute.

“Aulus said it was important.”

“It is.” Fordola said, and offered him the small, paper-wrapped vial.

Solus’s long, gloved fingers unwrapped the paper, and read it over, his face transmuting from mild amusement to the gravitas of stone within moments.

“Aulus.” The Emperor said quietly. “You will take this, and run the appropriate tests to confirm, though I do not doubt the veracity of her words.” He held out both the vial and the letter, then ran his hands through his hair.

“Who knows?” Solus asked Fordola.

“The Elder Seedseer, and I think Krile suspects.” Fordola’s hands were still shaking. “For now, Kan-E-Senna thinks it’s Aymeric’s or Olivier’s. If she and Krile speak too long, however…”

“They’ll put two and two together.” He replied.

She nodded. “And the Gridanians will execute her. They say you are an abomination.”

The Emperor hissed. “Get her out of there. I don’t care where you take her, but get her out of Gridania.”

Fordola saluted, and headed out.

Aulus took a moment, and glanced down at the letter in his hands.

>   
_H,_
> 
> _You announced to your armies at Ala Mhigo that you would give Eorzea to your Empress as her dower._
> 
> _You told me once that you would give me Eorzea upon the birth of our first child._
> 
> _Unless you want to be made a liar, to have your son born believed a bastard, in the heart of enemy territory, it is time for you to make good on all your pretty promises._
> 
> _The healers tell me you have seven months._
> 
> _-S_   



	20. The Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of stillness before the battle.

Olivier packed (Y/N)’s bag carefully while she paced, waiting for Fordola’s return. She knew what Hades would demand once he knew, and she knew that the Elder Seedseer would not take long to realize who the child’s true father was.

“You are a citizen of Ishgard,” Aymeric de Borel said coolly. “You should head there.”

“But Ul’dah is your _home_,” Nanamo countered.

Merlwyb leaned against the Armoire in the corner, saying nothing.

“Ul’dah may be her home, but Ishgard’s walls have stood for centuries. It is a safe place to retreat.” the Lord Commander glanced at Olivier. “You’ve been there, talk some sense into her.”

Olivier shook his head. “This decision is ultimately Lady (Y/N)’s.”

Aymeric shrugged. “This decision will ultimately mean war within the Alliance itself. Gridania will not stand idly by while an ‘ally’ aids and abets the Warrior of Light in fraternization with the enemy. As the most recent entrant into that Alliance, it will cause less issue if we are the ones that war is against.”

“To even get to Ul’dah they must cross the Thanalan. And with Raubahn’s capture, the city has already been gearing up for war.” Nanamo tugged (Y/N)’s hand. “You promised me he is all right.”

The (R/N) paused, and nodded. “I ordered Solus not to harm him.”

Merlwyb chuckled. “You issued an _order_ to the Emperor of Garlemald, to an Ascian?” The Roegadyn raised an eyebrow. “And he will obey?”

“Of course he will.” The utter conviction in her words caused the leaders to pause.

* * *

Hades returned to the war table, and let his fingers linger a moment over the map of Eorzea, thinking of his wife. His heart pounded in his chest. His wife. She needed him. He had seen what that letter was, beneath her heated challenge: a cry for help. Fordola would see to her immediate safety, and he must see to the war.

“Sire?” Sergius asked, and he looked up to see the two Legati exchanging a glance.

“Scrap the plans. I find myself impatient. Fire up the Ceruleum Engines.” Solus glanced between Sergius and Gabranth. “Sergius, you will lead the bulk of our forces into the forest to ensure the distraction of the Twin Adders and those Gridanians roused to the city’s defense. Gabranth, you will take a small, elite force into Gridania itself, find the Elder Seedseer, and retrieve for me her head.”

Sergius and Gabranth saluted, and Solus gave them a quick nod before continuing his way out, past the large central gathering area, to the Medical tents. The medici saluted quickly while going about their tasks as he passed, a reminder of both his position, and the risks. He entered Aulus’s small ‘office’, and saw the Praefectus’s floating chair hovering near a centrifuge. 

“Just a moment, Sire.” He said, not taking his eyes off the machine. When it whirred to a stop, he took the small vial and took a smaller sample from within, to be placed in a rather large machine. 

Solus bore all this in silence. He trusted (Y/N)’s knowledge of her own body, and had no doubt she was with child. He was more concerned about the other tests Aulus would run concurrently - those to monitor (Y/N)’s health. Finally, the machine began to print off a piece of paper, and Aulus caught it in his hands, looking over the results.

“Well?” the Emperor asked, and folded his hands behind his back. He needed control right now, but his heart was a riot in his chest, barely controlled.

“She is with child,” he said, eyeing the paper. “Healthy, for now, though there are high levels of maternal cortisol - she is very stressed, so that’s not surprising…” Aulus looked up at him. “Do you want me to run a paternity test? Not that I doubt the child is yours, but given your marriage is something of a secret at the moment, having the documentation on hand…”

“I must speak with (Y/N) first,” he tried to slow his breathing. “I… Even if we publicly marry now, the child will still be ‘early’, and people will whisper. The only way to protect her honor is to go public that we’ve been married over a year.”

“How will the Empire take it?” Aulus asked.

“I don’t give a damn about the empire right now.” Solus growled, a thousand emotions fighting to take control of his face. “My wife is with child and in enemy territory. I will burn it all to ash if anything happens to her.” 

Aulus opened his mouth to speak, but paused as he saw blood begin to trickle from the Emperor’s nose. Both gloved hands went to his hair, and he was shaking. “I said what I said, my Lord. By Your Grace, I have her at long last, and now she carries my child. I have waited eons for her. I would rather be beside her on a ruined husk than bring back an Amaurot without her in it.” 

“Sire…” Aulus whispered anxiously, moving his chair closer - just in time to catch the Emperor as he collapsed.

* * *

Fordola hesitated on the bank of the Velodyna before climbing onto the log. Something was off. She could feel the change in the wind, the tension humming in the air. She had to get to the Empress before the fighting broke out.

She raced down the length of the log, only to freeze halfway across, then drop prone against the ancient wood. Something was moving within the trees. She only got a moment of warning, the Resonance taking effect, and she rolled to the side just in time to dodge an arrow that landed on the log where she had just been, flying from beneath the boughs of the ancient forest.

On the banks behind her, Fordola heard the Ceruleum engines whirr to life, and she realized the battle was about to start. She looked up at the sea of stars, and nodded once.

_For Aulus._

* * *

“I’m going to Limsa Lominsa.” (Y/N) stood with her back to them, staring out the window at the night sky. “Along with being the least likely of the three remaining Eorzean cities for me to go to, it is also the most easily defended. Only Solus will be able to move an army across the Strait of Merlthor without engaging the Admiral’s fleet.”

“How?” Merlwyb was already moving cups and plates and silverware into position on the table, a makeshift map of Eorzea. “We have artillery specifically for the airships along the interior coast.”

“He’s an Ascian.” 

Aymeric inhaled sharply at (Y/N)’s words, and Nanamo winced, but Merlwyb didn’t blink as she said, “That explains his resurrection, but raises another question - why does he not simply take you? Why didn’t he take you with him when he left the Goblet?”

(Y/N)’s eyes slid to Olivier, who nodded, taking over the conversation. “How well do you think the common people will react to the following news: ‘The Emperor of Garlemald just kidnapped the Warrior of Light, and the Admiral isn’t going to do anything about it’? Or the Lord Speaker, or the Sultana?” He turned to Nanamo. “When she was accused of poisoning you -”

“- the people nearly rioted in the streets.” Nanamo’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“So you must convince the common people of Eorzea,” Aymeric said, standing beside Merlwyb and looking over the cutlery map. “If they see it as you being stolen, they will demand war. If they see you going as an end to the war…”

Olivier nodded. “What was it Solus said, (Y/N)? A few hundred thousand lives to save millions?” She nodded, but her eyes were focused on something in the forest.

Nanamo stood on her chair and looked over the map as well. “So it must be a war, and one he just barely wins.”

Aymeric approached her, and put his hand on her shoulder. “You know that I will support you in whatever you choose, but I must know - is it worth it? This war you want will cost so many lives. There are other men who would have you - other women, as well - and it would not cause a war for you to be with them. Is this Ascian worth that?”

(Y/N) reached up and cupped Aymeric’s cheek, gently. “Is an Empress?”

“And therein lies the rub,” Merlwyb agreed. “It isn’t just that (Y/N) wants _him_. He wants her as well. And while she might have been convinced otherwise, he cannot be.”

“All I can do at this point is mitigate the damage.” (Y/N) turned from Aymeric to the table. “So, let us begin with planning. We don’t have long - Kan-E-Senna is on her way to kill me.”

* * *

Hades woke in stillness, floating in the ruins of Amaurot, frozen in time. It was a tableau, to disquiet him, he realized, and did his best to push it away. He lowered his feet to the ground, and started walking. He knew where he was supposed to go.

* * *

Seneca van Sergius stared in open amazement as the woman, Aulus’s fiance, darted amongst the opening salvos like it was all choreographed, all theater. Neither the Gridanian arrows nor the Imperial guns could touch her, and she was across the river in a matter of minutes, vanishing through the enemy lines, their shouts echoing up from beneath the trees.

“Ciprian,” Seneca said, “Remind me to congratulate the Praefectus Medicorum on his engagement after the battle.”

“Sir,” the newest Tribuni, promoted to replace Otho, saluted.

Within the forest, Fordola ran faster than she ever had, the Resonance warning her of danger, and instinct honed amongst the Lupii guiding her every step. She had one goal right now, one purpose.

Get the Empress out of Gridania.

* * *

“Olivier.” (Y/N)’s voice was hard. “You will go with the Sultana to Ul’dah.”

He frowned. “My lady, I cannot. I am sworn to _your_ service. You know how seriously I take my oath.”

“I do,” She turned, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone does. That is why the best way to ensure my safety is for you to go with Nanamo. You are the surest sign of my presence. I might go into hiding, but the Elder Seedseer and Krile will look for _you_ as well. You being spotted heading towards the Thanalan in the company of the Sultana will convince them I am there. And the people of Ul’dah are already martialling for war.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to Ishgard?” Aymeric placed a hand on (Y/N)’s.

“As safe as I know I would be there, it is the second place they will look. If I am not at my home in the Goblet, I must have retreated to the safety of Ishgard, where the knights are honorbound to defend me, as a citizen.” She squeezed his hand, and Olivier glanced aside as her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know you wanted more than this, but…”

The Lord Commander smiled softly. “But you want the world, and I can only give you Ishgard.” He leaned down then, and pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s softly, for the briefest moment. “Your ambitions will kill us all, I fear.”

“Or save you,” She replied, and smiled enigmatically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t love you the way you wanted.”

Aymeric stepped away from her, and bowed. “It is no matter. Ishgard will stand in defense of the Warrior of Light in whatever way she deems necessary.” Then he laughed. “Negotiating trade agreements with the Garleans is going to be interesting.”

A clang rang out from the balcony. “Fortunately,” Fordola’s voice said, and they turned to see the Ala Mhigan hauling herself up and over the railing. “The Empress will be the one doing the negotiating. So you’ll get out of it.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Is it really negotiating if I just tell him what I want and he gives it to me without question?”

Fordola straightened and brushed herself off. “I didn’t say the negotiations would be protracted.” She bowed. “My lady. I have orders to see you safely out of Gridania.”

Merlwyb nodded. “She has decided to go with me to Limsa Lominsa.”

Fordola glanced to (Y/N) for confirmation, then nodded. “As my lady commands. Are you ready?”

(Y/N) took a moment to look around at her friends, and tears started to well in her eyes. “Thank you for helping me, even though I know I’m being an idiot.”

Nanamo cried out, and hopped down from her chair, rushing across the room and wrapping her arms around the (R/N). “Promise me you will be safe.” The Lalafell turned a murderous, tear-filled eye to Merlwyb. “Promise you will keep her safe.”

Merlwyb nodded. “Of course, my lady.” 

(Y/N) knelt and gave Nanamo a tight hug, then clutched her hands in hers. “When this is all over, you will come visit me in Garlemald.”

The Sultana nodded.

The sounds of battle could be heard outside, and Fordola exchanged a look with the Admiral. “We should be leaving, now.”

“I will follow your lead,” (Y/N) said to Merlwyb, and took the small valise Olivier had packed for her.

The Admiral checked her pistols to make sure they were loaded. “My ships are anchored in the Rothlyt Sound.” She pulled a small silver ring off her finger, and gave it to Fordola. “Pick a ship, and show the captain this. He will take you both back to Limsa Lominsa without question.”

“What about you, Admiral?” Fordola exchanged a glance with Olivier.

Merlwyb shook her head. “I arrived by airship, and I will leave the same way. It will make it less likely that I will be followed, or suspected in aiding her escape.”

The group of them exchanged one last look, then Fordola tugged the Warrior of Light to the Balcony. “It’s time to go.”

Then they vanished into darkness.

* * *

He was not surprised by the scene before him. His own form, looking on in horror as _she_ hovered before him, hands reaching towards him, and the shaft of Hydaelyn’s light was just brushing the back of her voluminous robes. 

Hades walked closer, and glanced up at his own face, the horror in his eyes, the understanding, the moment of his own personal Calamity. His mask, most familiar, red with silver lines implying circles, reminiscent of ripples across an otherwise still pond.

“We were so young,” he whispered to the phantom of himself. “So foolish. So desperately in love, and too powerful for ones so lacking in wisdom.” Hades closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to look at her.

In Amaurot, she had been called the _Dread_, the member of the Convocation intended to most terrify their enemies. Her mask was red as well, with thorned golden branches etched onto its surface.

“You never did anything by half-measures, my love,” Hades whispered. “You near broke our Convocation with your refusal to submit to summoning Zodiark, and you would not bear our disobedience to your will, summoning your Crystal Mother to unmake the violation of your decree.” He smiled. “Perhaps the Dread was a good title for you. But I remember who you really are.”

With shaking hands he removed her mask, and saw what he remembered. It was her face, _(Y/N)_’s face, but without the trappings of an (R/N). 

“Persephone was always quite beautiful.” Elidibus said, and Hades bore his teeth at his use of her most secret name, her true name in ancient Amaurot.

“You are not permitted to call her that,” he hissed. “It is the grossest violation - it is -”

“I know, Emet-Selch. But it certainly got your attention.” The Emissary sighed. “Come. She wishes to speak with you.”

“Who?” Hades stared up into his beloved’s eyes again. His hands tightened on her mask.

“You _know_ who.”

* * *

The child, Ryne, sat at the chess table, and looked up as he approached. “Hello, Emet-Selch.”

He glanced dubiously at Elidibus, but took the seat across from her. “I admit, I expected someone older.” 

“I have taken up the cup passed to me by Minfilia,” the girl said. “I am the Word of the Mother, now. It falls to me to speak for Her.” She looked down at the chess board. “It’s your move.”

Hades looked at the board as well. It was just as he had left it, the day before he married (Y/N). “I was not playing this game with _you_.”

“This game was never between you and she, Ascian.” The girl leaned on one hand, a bemused smile on her face. “It is between Hydaelyn and Zodiark. This form it takes,” she gestured to the board, “is merely an expression of it, much like the war raging between Garlemald and Eorzea.”

“If it is between those ancient Primals, why are _we_ playing it?” He lifted his eyes to the child’s face.

“Zodiark cannot speak for Himself. He is sundered. So it falls to his Architect to negotiate on his behalf.” Elidibus said, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“The Architect, and not the Emissary?” Hades raised an eyebrow towards his old friend. “Aren’t you the negotiator amongst us?”

“I am not the one Her Chosen chose.” It was a simple answer.

Emet-Selch took a few moments to reconsider his situation, and looked down at the mask still sitting in his lap - the thorns that twisted across its surface a mirror of those wrapped about his heart.

“Very well,” he whispered, and took up his queen from e7, moving it to d6. “I will negotiate on Zodiark’s behalf. But tell me, _Word of the Mother_, what are we negotiating for?”

Ryne took the rook from d1, and moved it to d4, capturing his pawn. “An end to this constant struggle. An equilibrium.”

“Balance,” Elidibus said. 

The girl nodded in agreement. “We must reach an accord, or the Dread will unmake everything with her ambition, just like she unmade Amaurot with Her birth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i've been telegraphing it pretty hard w/ the "do not speak her name"/"do not look at her" thing but there you go. Hope you like it.
> 
> Shout out to Homer for "Dread Persephone"


	21. Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiations begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter than before, mostly because i'm struggling w/ writer's block and figured you'd like some content rather than none. I hope you like it. We are approaching the end of RAW (not there yet, but getting there) and ending fics hurts. T.T

Hades took his pawn from c5, and moved it to d4, taking the rook. “Maybe allowing her to unmake everything is the right idea.” He watched Elidibus and the child for their reactions.

Ryne moved her rook from e1 to e7. “Check. If you do that, then your child will never see a sunrise.”

“Is it?” he asked idly, moving his king from a7 to b6. “My child, I mean. I only had her the once in the last year.”

The child lifted the white queen, and slid it gracefully from f4 to d4, taking a pawn, but she said nothing. It was Elidibus who spoke.

“She has been watched. There has been no one but you. And you should say, ‘Check,’ Ryne.”

Hades released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Though he did not doubt her love for him, he remembered Amaurot, and how tempermental she could be. He would not have been surprised if she had followed through on her threat to take other lovers to spite him. He moved his king from b6 to a5, and took a knight. “Prove it.”

“Ask Olivier,” Elidibus said, while Ryne contemplated her next move. They sat in silence for a time.

“Are you implying you will have my child killed if I do not rein in my wife? I’ve lost children before. Why should this affect me more than the others?” He knew it would, of course. None of his other children had been _Persephone’s_. 

“The Elder Seedseer is on her way.” Ryne picked up the pawn at b2 and moved it to b4. “Check.”

“(Y/N) will not suffer Kan-E-Senna to live if she makes the attempt.” Hades replied, and moved his king from a5 to a4. “My Legatus may have already done it himself. So you’ll have to offer something better than that.”

The White queen was moved from d4 to c3. “I am here, negotiating an end to the hostilities,” Ryne replied. “I am here because Urianger said I can trust Elidibus. What would it take for Zodiark to stop seeking to be rejoined?”

Hades scoffed, and moved his queen from d6 to d5, taking a pawn. “More than, ‘We won’t kill your child.’” He sighed. “Half of Amaurot died so that Zodiark could exist. As a member of the Convocation, I cannot, in good conscience, weight the life of my child more than all of theirs. Especially considering he is sundered.”

“So that’s a place to start,” Ryne said, and took the rook at e7 and moved it to a7. “You would like your son to be born unsundered.”

“As if that is an option” He said sarcasticly, and moved his bishop from a8 to b7.

“Of course it is.” The girl slid her rook from a7 to b7 and captured the bishop.

Hades’s chest tightened, and his mouth went dry.

* * *

Fordola watched the Captain warily as he examined the ring on her palm. After a few tense moments, he sighed. “It’s genuine.” The rest of the crew around him relaxed as well. “Where am I taking you?” He asked.

(Y/N) shoulders dropped in relief. “Limsa Lominsa. As quietly as possible.”

As the ship pulled out of the sound, Fordola took the gun Aulus had given her, and fired it into the air. A blue-white flare sailed up amids the stars. She could only hope he saw it.

* * *

Seneca van Sergius walked behind the lines of his cannons. He knew the Emperor intended to give this land, including this forest, as a gift to the Warrior of Light. And this presented him with a conundrum. 

They had been throwing wave after wave of soldiers into the Velodyna, and wave after wave had come out of the forest to meet them. There were near enough bodies in the river to make a damn bridge of them, and he could march his men across, but there was a reason the Emperor’s last invasion had stopped at Ala Mhigo. The Black Shroud was not a forest easily beaten with guns and swords. 

He had a solution. A simple, perfect solution, to the whole problem of the Shroud, but if he used it, he might displease his future Empress. It was another gamble. One that might not pay off. 

Seneca stacked the odds. In Ala Mhigo, the Emperor had only given the order to capture the enemy commanders, not kill them, like he’d sent Gabranth to do. Before his death, Emperor Solus had generally preferred not to kill leaders unless it was deemed unavoidable. But here, before the battle had been joined, he had specifically requested the Elder Seedseer’s head.

“Sir?” Ciprian asked, saluting as he passed by. The Legatus stopped and looked at the boy. He looked like his youngest son, in the dim light of the forest. Seneca remembered his family, his Julia, still waiting patiently for his return even after all these deployments. 

He remembered what he’d told the Emperor, just before they had taken Ala Mhigo. _”It is only when the Empire is unquestionably victorious that I might return to see her.”_

“Ciprian, send a message to the other Tribuni,” he said, and the boy saluted again. “I want that forest to be naught but cinders.”

* * *

The Sultana yawned, and lifted her head from General Tarupin’s shoulder. “Dawn already?” She murmured, and rubbed her eyes.

Pipin and Olivier’s heads both lifted in unison, and they glanced towards the east, only to see dark, starlit skies. Then they looked towards the north, out the back window of the carriage, and sucked in a breath. A pale blue glow seemed to illuminate between the trees.

* * *

“Again!” Seneca yelled. The canoneers stuffed the canisters of volatile, untreated ceruleum into their weapons, and aimed them towards the dense canopy. The first hundred yards already burned with the sickly-blue flames, and the famliar blue fog of its overuse was creeping across the river. 

“Fire!” Ciprian called once he received the all-clear from the canoneers, and the fragile glass-and-metal canisters sailed over the trees like meteors through the night sky. A few heartbeats later, they heard the distant, muffled booms.

The orange came soon after, the voidsent grenades often attracted by loose ceruleum, and all the blue turned to orange as the Black Shroud was put to Seneca’s magitek torch.

He closed his eyes, and let the distant heat of the inferno bathe his skin. He remembered Julia’s laughter. She always loved the summer sun. 

“Again!” He shouted, and the canoneers moved to obey.

* * *

“What’s happening?” Nanamo asked, now fully awake. The glow had changed from a soft blue to a violent orange in the span of a few breaths.

Pipin clenched his teeth. “The Garleans are burning the forest.”

Tears streaked the Sultana’s face. “Why?”

Olivier sighed heavily. “(Y/N) may be willing to forgive the Elder Seedseer and Krile, but do you think an Ascian will?”

The General of the Immortal Flames frowned. “An Ascian? I thought (Y/N) was married to the Emperor.”

“The Emperor is an Ascian,” Nanamo said, still watching the glow become brighter with every distant boom. She seemed hypnotized by the horror of it.

Pipin turned to Olivier. “And we’re just… running away.”

The Elezen shrugged. “The Sultana has supported (Y/N)’s marriage. So the Emperor will spare Ul’dah. Kan-E-Senna wanted to kill (Y/N), once she learned she was with child.”

Nanamo nodded, and her face was still, save the tears still streaking down it. “And thus we see the Emperor’s wrath.”

“Why don’t we stop them?” Pipin asked. His hand was on Tizona’s hilt.

Olivier opened his mouth, but it was the Sultana who spoke. “My first responsibility is to the people of Ul’dah,” she whispered. “It is a mercenary way to feel, but I am Sultana to a mercenary people. If riding away in a carriage while a forest burns will spare them the same fate, then I will do so without complaint.” Nanamo slumped back in her seat and buried her face in her hands, and Pipin put his arm around her.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” the General murmured. “Something important. Please. If we are to turn our backs on our allies, and let a dear friend run off with an Ascian, I think we deserve to know.”

Olivier watched the forest burn. “Tell me. What do you know of the nature of Zodiark and Hydaelyn?”

* * *

Hades carefully moved his queen from d5 to c4. “Even if I accept that, one life does not measure in the balance.” 

Ryne quickly snatched her queen from c3 and moved it to f6, capturing a knight. “Not even Persephone’s?”

He hissed and moved his king from a4 to a3, and took a pawn. “You have no right to say her name.”

“I speak for Hydaelyn,” she moved her queen from f6 to a6, and took the pawn there. “Check. And she is my friend. I may call her what I like.”

“And what about you?” His eyes slid to Elidibus as his king slid from a3 to b4, capturing another pawn. “I thought you sought the Rejoining for your precious balance.”

Elidibus shrugged. “The balance distinguishes not between lead and gold.”

“Enough of your riddles, Emissary. Too much is at stake for you to do aught but speak plainly.” Hades grumbled, while Ryne moved another pawn forward, from c2 to c3, to which she quietly whispered “Check,” but he captured it immediately with his king from b4.

The other Ascian placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, and took the white queen, dragging it from a6 to a1. “So long as there is equilibrium between Zodiark and Hydaelyn, between Eorzea and Garlemald, between Emet-Selch and (Y/N), I will be content. Check.”

Hades moved his king out of the white queen’s path, from c3 to d2. “Why do you feel the need to meddle in my relationship?”

It was the girl who spoke, who glared at him. “You are always harping on about what you have lost. What about the rest of us?” She moved the queen from a1 to b2 and an angry smile twisted her lips. “Check.”

Hades sighed in exasperation and moved his king from d2 to d1. “Well, what do you propose, then? What can you possibly think you have to offer that is enough for me, and thus Zodiark, to capitulate?”

Ryne took the bishop at h3, and moved it to f1. “The Dread. You can keep her.” Hades opened his mouth to retort, but the girl continued. “Beyond this life. She will remain broken, because she chose that fate to protect _you_. But even in death, she will not forget you again.”

He moved his rook from d8 to d2. “She’ll still be dead.” Hades tried not to think about the bitterness and pain in his voice.

Elidibus moved the rook at b7 to d7. “You were always tied to the Underworld, Hades. You have the power to ensure her reincarnation.”

His hand stilled over his rook at d2 as his thoughts swirled, and he tried to imagine that future. He had considered it before, seeking out her reincarnations, but had always assumed it would be to start over at the beginning. To attempt to claim her heart for a few brief decades of happiness, then wait again for her rebirth. But this… 

He would find her again, and she would know his name. (Y/N) would not shy from his touch on their first meeting. He would put that earring in her hands and she would put it on herself. Her body would be new, but the parts that mattered - her heart, her soul, her mind - would be the same. They would not have to repeat the same dance, merely wait for the minstrels to begin the next song. He would have his wife, and she would be a true companion through the ages.

Hades’s hands shook as he took the rook at d7 with his own. “I’m listening.”


	22. Concede

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Negotiations reach their end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write. Like I mentioned on twitter, I realized I was trying to find ways to prolong this fic, because it is so hard to end. I love the Hades/WOL ship.

Ryne smiled and moved her bishop form f1 to c4, capturing Hades’s queen. Elidibus laughed. “You always were a fool when it came to her.”

“You’ve never been in love, you wouldn’t understand,” he replied weakly, and took the bishop with his pawn from b5. 

“Just because I have never been interested in marriage, romance, or sex does not mean I don’t see the way they rule those around me,” Elidibus nodded in approval as Ryne moved the white queen from b2 to h8, capturing one of Hades’s rooks. “It was love that caused Zodiark’s birth - the love our people bore for each other, giving rise to Him through their willing sacrifice for each other.”

Hades said nothing, and moved his rook from d7 to d3. 

“It was love that gave rise to Hydaelyn as well - the Dread’s desire to protect those remaining Amaurotines from Zodiark’s growing hunger.” Elidibus said, and Ryne moved the queen from h8 to a8. 

“Yet she still chose to sunder herself.” His voice was ragged with the pain he was keeping locked behind his mask. He moved his pawn from c4 to c3.

Ryne patted his hand gently. “_For you,_” she replied, emphasizing the thought that had haunted him in nightmares for a thousand thousand lifetimes. She moved the queen from a8 to a4. “Check.”

Elidibus watched him move the King from d1 to e1, and said, “Of everyone and everything in Amaurot, _you_ were the one she chose to save. Hydaelyn would have given her anything, and her choice revealed more of her hopes and dreams than she ever had in all her years on the Convocation.”

Ryne moved her pawn from f3 to f4, and Hades could feel the child’s eyes on him.

“It still does not change the truth,” he ignored the way his voice cracked as he spoke, and moved his pawn from f7 to f5. His eyes lingered on the white queen, and the black king. “She is still Hydaelyn’s, and I am still Zodiark’s.”

Elidibus took up the white king, and moved it from b1 to c1. “Didn’t I tell you once before? I consider you an acceptable price to pay to keep the Warrior of Light distracted.”

Hades moved his rook to d2. “You said, ‘The balance distinguishes not between lead and gold.’”

“And it doesn’t,” Ryne said, and moved the queen back, from a4 to a7. 

“My goal has ever been equilibrium,” Elidibus clarified. “For millennia, I struggled to rejoin Zodiark - to bring Him back to His full power so that He might stand against Hydaelyn as equals.” He looked up, behind Hades, to Hydaelyn, where Her image floated amidst the destruction. “It occurred to me, when the Emperor Solus died - that I was coming at this from the wrong angle. Why make Zodiark more, when I could make Hydaelyn less?”

Hades raised an eyebrow, but the Emissary continued. “All it takes is removing two pieces - the Word of the Mother, and the Dread.”

He placed a hand on Ryne’s shoulder. “The Word was easy enough - bring along some champions from the first, spin a few tales, be candid with the scholar - he handed Minfilia Warde to the First without complaint, and in an effort to save Herself Hydaelyn bound Her power to mortal flesh.”

Elidibus gestured to the white queen on the chessboard. “But the Dread? She has never accepted failure, or defeat, or anything less than what she perceives as her due. Her hands could hold the world and it would never be enough without _you_. Deep within that woman, your Persephone -” Hades made a weak noise of protest, but he was waved back to silence. “- still slumbers. The woman who destroyed the Convocation, Zodiark, Amaurot, and all our vaunted plans, for _one_ purpose - to protect the man she loved. But she will break the rest of us just the same if you will not forsake your pride, Hades. In the end, even you must submit to her will, or all of this has been for naught.” 

The two men, the last two unsundered Amaurotines stared at each other for a long moment, then Ryne broke the silence with a giggle. “You must choose, Hades. Will you live for the past, or the future? Will you give her up, and attempt to bring back the Amaurot-that-was? Or will you choose the woman who chose you, and build the Amaurot-that-could be?”

Hades stared down at the chessboard before him, and picked up the black king.

* * *

**Seven Months Later**

The journey across Eorzea had been arduous. Not because of the fighting - that had ended the moment Emperor Solus had found Kan-E-Senna deep within the forest, with Gabranth’s sword at her throat. With her capitulation, the rest of the Eorzean leaders had conceded in a matter of months.

No, the difficulty came in putting right the many crimes of the Empire as they moved, and even now, the work was barely begun. But with the unseen Empress’s consent, Garlean soldiers had worked side by side with Eorzeans to build a network of roads to ease travel and trade, and negotiated a peace treaty. All that remained was the Empress’s approval on the terms.

Hades had spent a long time considering what he would say when he saw her next, and every day that passed had made it harder. He was ashamed to admit he tarried, looking for excuses to avoid facing her, while longing for her with every moment. 

Still, he found himself in Limsa Lominsa, as inevitably as the tide, and now he stood outside the door to her chambers where she had gone into confinement, in preparation for the imminent birth. Would Hydaelyn hold to the agreement he had made with Ryne?

The servants and ministers and Eorzeans had left at his request. This reunion was for no one but (Y/N) and Hades. He let his fingers curve around the smooth metal of the doorknob, and swallowed as he pushed it open.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered into the darkness.

“Shut the door,” her voice called weakly from further in. “The light hurts my head.”

“I… All right,” Hades pushed the door closed, and let the darkness envelop them both, save the small sliver of light from parted curtains at the far end of the room. It was enough to navigate by, but not enough to see anything, least of all the woman he knew waited somewhere in the overly large bed. Still, he made his way to the bedside and sat down. “Can I turn on a lamp? Something dim? I have not seen your face in so long.”

“And whose fault is that?” She grumbled.

“Ours,” he replied. “We’re both overdramatic lovesick idiots.”

She laughed, then, after a pause said, “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

He scoffed. “Like what? Pregnant? My darling, I have seen how pregnancy changes a woman before.” 

He heard the sheets rustle. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” He asked.

“Marry someone other than me?” Her voice was hard with anger.

Hades laughed. “Because I was desperately trying to tell myself that I didn’t need you to be happy. I am pleased to admit that I was wrong.”

“You are right,” (Y/N) said, and he felt her hand come to rest on his. “We are both overdramatic lovesick idiots.” She sighed. “You may put on a soft light. Something that won’t hurt my eyes.”

He conjured a lantern - the same one he’d given her in Fanow two years ago, and let it hang in the air by the bedside. 

(Y/N) was sitting up amongst a pile of pillows, dark circles beneath her eyes.

“My love, have you been getting any rest?” he asked, moving towards her.

“You think I’ve been able to sleep without you there?” She whispered. “Hades, I…”

He cut her off with a kiss, twisting his fingers in the ends of her hair. “Never again,” he whispered. “I hope you got your answers, my love, because these last months have been torture. Knowing you were mine, but not being able to see you, to touch you.” He kissed her again to hide his tears, and felt them mingle with hers on their cheeks. “I will not suffer to be parted from you again. I will follow you to the ends of the Source, to the First, wherever you go, if necessary, but please, I will give anything, to never be separated again.”

She sat in silence for a long time, pressed close to his chest. “Stay with me,” she was weeping into his shirt, and he put his arms around her, holding her close against his chest. “Promise me. Even when I am old and grey, even when I die, don’t forsake me.”

“I can’t,” he said simply, and brushed his finger along the earring caught in her right ear, and then pressed his hand to his heart. “You are my wife. And will be, for always.”

* * *

The Prince of Garlemald was born on the first new moon of spring, in the city of Limsa Lominsa. The Praefectus Medicorum, Aulus mal Asina, was in attendance, while the Emperor, and two of his Legati - Noah van Gabranth and Seneca van Sergius - waited outside the birthing chamber. 

When Asina pronounced both child and mother ready to receive visitors, Hades was the first in the room, banishing the rest of them with a wave of his hand. In the bed, where he had slept every night since their reunion, lay his wife, clutching a swaddled form to her chest. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, hovering anxiously, just out of arm’s reach. He didn’t want to look. He couldn’t look. Not yet. He could not bear for his heart to be broken if Ryne and Hydaelyn had not kept their word.

“Exhausted,” she grumbled and looked up at him. “I hope you’re not expecting me to birth an army, because that’s not happening.”

“Not at all,” he replied smoothly, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe just a few dozen.”

Her feigned scowl was ruined by her laughter. “Do you want to hold him? Or are you going to stand there, hopping from foot to foot like an anxious schoolchild for the rest of the day?”

Hades snorted derisively. “I suppose I must.” He held out his arms. “Have you named him?”

“No,” she said. “That is your job, not mine. I just get to veto any choices I don’t like.”

“True enough,” he said, and smiled as she placed the bundle in his arms. “Do you mind if I…?” He glanced towards the open bright light of the fireplace, a few steps from the bed. She nodded, and he stepped away.

Hades finally allowed himself to look, once his back was to (Y/N), once he was sure she would not see the tears if he had been betrayed. But the tears came anyway, thick and hot and constant, when he saw the boy’s soul was as intact as his own, whole and unsundered and Amaurotine. He pushed the blanket back to get a better look at him, and smiled to see the boy had a shock of his father’s white hair - for had he not been himself, truly, when the boy had been conceived? - and those same gold eyes. All the rest of him was as (R/N) as his mother, and for some reason that pleased Hades more than anything else.

“You will be as fearsome as she, I think,” He whispered to the boy, who yawned and fell back asleep, drunk on his mother’s milk. He raised his voice, so that (Y/N) could hear him. “What about Zagreus? For he was conceived amidst the hunt, and I do not think he will be one to be idle.”

(Y/N) nodded and gave them both an encouraging smile. 

“There,” he said, “your true name shall be Zagreus. But, as your father, it is also my duty to give you your first mask.” Hades touched the boys hair, and the color changed, rippling to his own dark auburn. “For the rest of the Source, you will be Lucas yae Galvus, Crown Prince of Garlemald.” He grinned at (Y/N). “Unless your mother objects.” 

Her laughter was as warm as her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We still have the epilogue, which I'll start on once I've had some dinner.


	23. Epilogue: Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the epilogue!

**A Century Later**

Olivier sat on a balcony overlooking the formal entrance to the palace. It had been a little over twenty years since Empress (Y/N)’s death, and the Empire had been in mourning since. But a week ago, Prince Lucas had been sent to fetch her from Eorzea, once she sent word that she felt she was old enough and prepared to take her place at the Emperor’s side.

He cut an apple into slices, and offered one to Elidibus, who sat beside him. “Do you think it worked?”

The Ascian took the slice. “The only person these Garleans worship more than their ‘eternal emperor’ is their empress, now.” He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “And the two of them are so disgustingly in love, I don’t think you need to worry about either of them getting ideas about Rejoinings.” Elidibus gave him a warm smile. “You have kept your word, and played your part. No world will be destroyed again, except by unpredictable disasters, Unulkalhai. And those we can do naught to prevent.”

The mask of the Elezen fell away at last, and Unulkalhai pushed back the hood of his white robe. “It’s strange. I haven’t seen my own face since I was a boy.”

“What will you do now?” Elidibus asked, blatantly thieving a slice of apple from his hand.

“Explore, I think,” he replied. “There are still worlds I haven’t seen, Allagan ruins to dive into, mysteries to solve. You taught me to traverse the Rift, and (Y/N) taught me how to fight. I think I will see what this sundered paradise has to offer, before I decide my own path in it.”

“What about Zagreus?” 

Unulkalhai blushed deeply, but a few strains of music could be heard from the speakers along the boulevard, and Elidibus waved him to silence.

* * *

Hades ran a hand irritably through his hair, and examined himself in the mirror again. “Why can’t anything go right for me today?” he groaned aloud.

“Really, Father,” his daughter, Melinoë, known to everyone save their family as Oriana wir Galvus, chided as she straightened his coat. “Mother’s coming home and you’re fussing over your hair. You know she will love you regardless. And stop tugging it like that. Auntie Tataru would roll over in her grave if she saw you fussing.”

“Still,” He grumbled, but stopped pulling on his jacket. “I am anxious. I’ve missed her.” 

She squeezed his arm. “We all have. But come, the stewards have put a lot of work into this festival. And you don’t want to disappoint her by being late.”

As Hades stepped out of the palace, a cheer went up, and the speakers surrounding the wide boulevard that led to the palace began to play the Colonial Anthem of the Garlean Empire.

_Beyond majestic mountains, Across the emerald dale,_

The Legatuses and their families lined up along the steps, save of course, Crown Prince Lucas, who had gone to retrieve his mother and bring her home. He had been the one tasked with ensuring it was truly her that had been reborn, and Hades still remembered the irritated letters he received as she attempted to re-establish the muscle memory of her overly ornate hand. But he had refused to see her over the years, not until she was ready to wed him. He did not want the image of her as a child to be fixed in his mind - not even he was _that_ horrible.

_On march the ivory standard, United we prevail!_

The women chosen to serve as her personal servants carefully arranged themselves behind the palace gates, at the foot of the statue of (Y/N)’s dearest friend - the first non-Garlean Legatus, Fordola van Asina. He realized he missed Fordola and her husband, Aulus, but it was only a flicker. Little could truly dampen his mood today, of all days.

_From distant shores of Othard, to lakes of Aldenard,_

A cheer echoed from beyond the boulevard that lead to the Imperial gates, and Hades knew her carriage had been spotted in the streets of the city, and the citizenry - enjoying a national holiday in celebration of her return - were welcoming her home.

_The light of mighty Garlemald, Fore’er our guiding star!_

A quick succession of carriages appeared, disgorging Eorzean dignitaries, come to the capital for the feast to celebrate the Empress’s return. As she was, according to the peace treaty that had held for a century, the Empress of Eorzea, even if only in name, their presence here was required for continued good relations.

_Beneath the lofty heavens, With tired hands we toil._

The various Eorzean leaders arrayed themselves at the entrance to the boulevard. Only the Padjal was unchanged. The rest were new - Pipin and Nanamo’s granddaughter - the Lord Speaker of Ishgard, someone of House Fortemps if he remembered the missives correctly - a new Admiral for Limsa Lominsa - this one a Miqo’te - and the ancient and aging son of Lyse Hext and Lord Hien of Doma.

_In iron do we clad our hearts, And cloudless are our souls!_

A black carriage, carrying the Imperial standard, pulled up at the far end of the boulevard at last, and beside him, Melinoë squealed in delight. “Oh, Father, I’m so excited!”

_Yet every trial suffered, And every ally mourned,_

Zagreus, unnaturally tall, even for an (R/N), climbed out of the carriage first, and offered a hand to the woman inside, who followed, clad in an ivory wedding gown and veil, and Hades could not help but smile. He had failed to give her an Imperial wedding last time. It seemed (Y/N) would make sure she received it.

“Whatever you want,” he whispered, and realized he was crying. “Whatever you want is yours, my dear.”

_Do bring us solidarity - Our spirits stand untorn!_

As the pair proceeded along the boulevard, the population of the city, crowded in doorways and alleyways and along the wide sidewalks, knelt in obeisance to their beloved empress, while those on balconies tossed flower petals down and called words of welcome. He wondered when she had usurped him in their hearts, and found that he did not care. All that mattered was that they loved her, and understood how precious (Y/N) was.

_Behold the boundless legions, whose wings embrace the sun!_

Melinoë skipped down the steps to the pair, and hugged the veiled woman tightly, murmuring something, before they kissed each other’s cheeks, and his daughter moved to the side to join her husband and children amongst the crowd.

_Their fire rains down upon the land until their course is run!_

Zagreus grinned as they climbed the last few steps, and offered the woman’s hand to Hades. He took it, and realized he was shaking, especially at the familiar squeeze she gave him as he lifted the veil over her face.

_By the mercy of Lord Galvus, the pride within us all,_

It was her, oh, Zodiark it was her, her eyes, her smile, and he could see the soul was still his sundered wife, and nothing else in existence mattered, now that she was here.

_Shall we be granted victory_

Hades slid his fingers into her hair, and she smiled at him, leaning into his touch. “It will never be easy…” (Y/N) whispered.

“... but it will be glorious,” he replied, and kissed her, everything else forgotten in his joy to have her home.

_For Glory, Garlemald!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah! Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic. This is definitely NOT the only Emet-Selch fic I have, as Christmas Wish is still being updated (A reverse-isekai fic where he comes to the real world to spend time with the main character). I also have plans for some very silly AU fics (Can someone say Victorian Gothic Romance Vampire fic?), and once I've finished a few more fics, may tackle him within the context of the game again.
> 
> Please, leave a note, or chat me up on Twitter: @amandaterasu!


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